


Amor Fati

by Munchkin47



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 165,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22463590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Munchkin47/pseuds/Munchkin47
Summary: For many years, the tiny kingdom of Nibelheim has been able to maintain a quiet peace with the Shinra Empire. But when the General of the SOLDIER Army of Shinra, the famed Silver Demon, overthrows the emperor with a successful military coup, he unwittingly renews an old tributary agreement that sees the second prince of Nibelheim sent to the empire as its new consort. And it is only during the wedding night does Cloud find out that Sephiroth never wanted him there in the first place.
Relationships: Angeal Hewley/Genesis Rhapsodos, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 420
Kudos: 877





	1. Chapter 1

How he got to this dastardly point in time was beyond his current ability to understand, to fathom the workings of fate. He had thrown everything he had against _thi_ s very problem; but no matter how many times he had sternly objected, or pitched fits, or made deathly threats; it seemed as though this was the one problem he couldn’t quite solve.

He folded his head into one gloved hand, beyond frustrated to have landed in this exact place where he didn’t want to be – in this ostentatiously made-up bridal suite, distastefully facing his new consort, who clearly looked like he didn’t want to be there either.

Well, bad luck, Sephiroth thought to himself rather bitterly. He wasn’t the only one. But if he had anything to say about it, this nonsensical farce would stop right here and now. He certainly wasn’t about to go through the so-called sacred bedding rituals, and there was no way in hell that even the bedding would take place.

Nearly five years ago now, as he consolidated his newfound powers over the scattered remnants of the Shinra Empire, his advisors had unearthed a slew of tribute agreements from previously annexed or allied territories made under the jurisdiction of the previous Emperor. The list had been too long, too complicated; the list of territories too lengthy, the tributes too menial for him to even pay attention when there were multiple, more urgent issues that took up his time. Some of them were pitifully trivial, like a hundred bushels of Banora apples from that region every year. He didn’t give a shit if they gave him a bushel or none, he had more important shit he had to deal with, like putting down the recent insurgency within the slums of Midgar itself.

But hindsight was a cold bitch, and he really should have paid more attention to that particular list before allowing his advisors to go ahead and renew and renegotiate these treaties on his behalf.

He should have known that old pervert of an emperor had been up to all sorts of dirty, filthy shit. And for that alone, he thought his rebellion had been worth it.

He had started at the SOLDIER program under the auspices of the Shinra Empire, and rose quickly through the ranks. As a Mako-enhanced Super Soldier, he wasn’t merely good; he had been blessedly talented. His ambition propelled him up the ranks, and he had simply focused on doing his job, and getting up the ladder as quickly as he could.

But when he finally got up there, as the General of the Shinra SOLDIER Army, he realized that it simply hadn’t been enough. He thought he would be happy, but as it turned out, no one could really be happy working for a despotic liege. He had to put an end to the empire’s plundering of its own natural wealth, and its mistreatment of its own loyal soldiers. His military coup had led to the emperor’s death, and to no one’s surprise, he was now stuck being the ruler of this damned place. That he could live with, and made peace with a long time ago.

But now he paid the price of ignorance, and it simply wasn’t good enough to say, ‘I didn’t know’. Because he hadn’t known, and he still incurred this nightmare of a problem. And he would rather pull off what was now widely known as the ‘coup of a lifetime’ another thousand times, than have to stand here, right now.

And that brought him to this point. He was now married, and had a consort that was a tribute from the Nibelheim Kingdom. Seriously?

With deep-seated anger, most of it directed internally, he began shucking his gloves and placed them on the dressing table. With an annoyed flare of his nostrils, he realized that they had removed his bed and replaced it with a much bigger one. The glossy mahogany was beautiful, and the mattress looked thick and luxurious, but it was clad in an objectionable bedsheet of red silk and lace, and there were gauzy hangings forming a half-opaque canopy around the bed, for fuck’s sakes. What the fuck did his courtiers think this was? A harem?

He looked around his room, angrily wondering if they had made any other changes without his permission. Someone’s head was going fly first thing tomorrow morning, he vowed to himself. Especially if he managed to get through this horrid night in one piece.

He eyed the figure in bed, and for a moment was half-tempted to keep Masamune with him. But his head prevailed. As if cutting down this stranger in front of him was enough to solve the problem. No, he sighed inwardly. The Nibelheim Kingdom would just send him their third son, if they had one.

Despite being told all the salient details about this stranger, realistically he knew nothing. The second son of the small tributary kingdom from the west, he had been groomed since puberty to know his place as a consort of the Shinra Empire. But despite his status, he represented a diplomatic importance for both countries.

Sephiroth could gather the rest of the information for himself, through observations and inferences. He looked very young. Most likely sheltered, and naïve, he thought. During the ridiculous over-the-top wedding ceremony he had briefly glimpsed that beautiful face – large blue eyes, pale skin, golden hair that stood in barely tamed spikes – hidden under a veil. It wasn’t quite fear in his face, but something else that he couldn’t quite put a finger on. And anyway, he looked as uncomfortable as Sephiroth felt, so that counted for something, right? It kind of felt nice that he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be in this situation.

But he set his katana aside, in its ivory sheath fastened to the bedside table, where he usually preferred it. The war might have been over for five years, but he knew better than anyone that anything could happen, at any time, including when you were the most vulnerable. He removed his heavy military jacket and hung it up in the closet, and stood there in his ruffled white dress shirt and black pants, wondering what to do next.

There, he could admit it to himself. He didn’t want to do it – the bedding ritual.

Not that the act itself was abhorrent to him, no. It had been years since someone had warmed his bed, and he would have welcomed the sexual release.

It was the fact he was being _made_ to do it – he didn’t like being told what to do. His days of being Shinra’s lapdog was over. And if there was something he didn’t want to do …

He gritted his teeth. It had been quite a while since he was forced to do something.

His advisors had cautioned him against relinquishing the long-held traditions from the empire, and that too many changes in too short of a time could jeopardize the fragile peace that they had been working on for so long. Besides, nothing won over the people’s hearts than a joyous celebration, a wedding that bridged two countries. They didn’t need to know that this particular royal wedding cost hundreds of thousands of Gil from the treasury, or that the grooms knew next to nothing about each other, or that such outdated traditions such as the silk of consummation and the bedding ritual or the tributary consort was disgraceful.

He heard the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his best friend Angeal Hewley, saying to his face and a quick shrug of the shoulder, ‘He arrived at Midgar a month ago. You should have met him then, but you kept using work as your excuse.’

‘They weren’t excuses,’ Sephiroth had snarled that morning, even as Genesis Rhapsodos, his other best friend and sometimes advisor who frankly, was the best source for the dumbest and wildest ideas, laughed blatantly in his face.

‘Oh, relax,’ Genesis said. ‘You can just fuck him once and be done with it. You don’t have to see him after tonight if you don’t want to. You get to bang a virgin, and you get to appease your small council and the Kingdom of Nibelheim. Win, win.’

Angeal shook his head, distaste on his face. ‘You’re a classy kind of guy, Genesis. Listen, Sephiroth. Don’t overthink it. You’re a lot older now, and it won’t hurt to settle down with a spouse. You’re too busy to find one, so one has been found for you. It’s not a bad idea to finish off your endless nights with someone warming your bed.’

Sephiroth had yanked on his full military jacket with a sort of fury he reserved for soldiers who fucked up. ‘I’m not happy about this-’

‘We know,’ Angeal said, and helped Sephiroth get into the jacket. ‘But you need to shut up and do this. The people are loving it. The news have been going insane since he arrived in Midgar, and there are articles everyday about how you two are “loved up” and “living in premarital bliss”.’

‘Check this out,’ Genesis lifted the front page of a newspaper. ‘Haha. “Happily Ever After” and “The Princes of Peace”.’

Angeal pushed down the paper before Sephiroth could tear it off him. ‘The citizens are lapping it up, so suck it up, and put on a good show.’

‘And if he turns out to be a good bang, then keep going,’ Genesis suggested. ‘If he’s terrible, at least you’ve done your job.’

‘Stop talking,’ Sephiroth snapped at him.

‘Whoo boy, someone’s pissed on his wedding day. Terrible attitude,’ Genesis tsked, and Angeal had to grab Genesis and whisk him away before Sephiroth could pull out his sword and cut him down.

He stood now by the bed, just behind the stupid veil between him and his new consort. His arms were crossed against his chest, and he seriously debated about walking away. It was really too bad that they converted his bedroom into the bridal suite. Why. Why!?

The figure on the bed shifted uncomfortably, probably feeling Sephiroth’s furious gaze burning into his skin. He moved to face him, and their gazes locked together. For a moment there, Sephiroth’s thoughts paused. The tension between them was pregnant with the unspoken, of a common bond formed from the understanding of a mutual duty, an obligation, and an extraordinary sacrifice.

Probably more so on his consort’s part than his, Sephiroth reasoned, his heart softening a little towards the figure on the bed. He was brave, unflinching in the face of his fate, Sephiroth conceded. And he was definitely on the losing end of the deal, and yet from day one, he hadn’t heard a peep from the man. It made Sephiroth’s bad tempered snits sound like boyhood whining and tantrums.

He felt sorry for the boy – a second prince who was unlikely to ever be king, the spare who was tied to the empire as a tribute the moment he was born. He was clad only in a thin blanket of the whitest silk – what they called the silk of consummation, or the consummation cloth. It didn’t provide much coverage for his bared skin, stripped of all clothes, sent in like a sacrificial lamb.

Sephiroth could smell the faint perfume that had been rubbed into his skin – a light, sweet floral scent, a fine blend from the freshly pressed oils of the magnolia blossoms. It was a heady scent, clean and sweet, yet mysterious and alluring.

‘My lord?’ the boy said softly, questioningly. 

With a deep sigh, he knew what he was going to do. He pulled open his bedside drawer, and withdrew the penknife he knew was in there. He palmed it, then lifted the horrendous gauzy canopy, and took a seat next to his new spouse.

‘Hello,’ the boy, no, man said shyly. From this angle, his eyes were blue, and luminous – the color of a cloudy blue sky. Was that why he had that name, Sephiroth wondered.

‘Hello.’ Sephiroth nodded. ‘May I have the cloth, please?’

Cloud flushed, and let the silk shawl fall off his shoulders. He pulled it around him, radiating an awkward self-consciousness about his own nakedness, and handed the silk to Sephiroth. Then he pulled up his knees to his chest, as if he could make himself smaller or curl into a ball. The lamps illuminating the room threw a bronze cast over his smooth, beautiful skin, but even then Sephiroth could see that his shoulders were skinny and pale.

But that shyness in the eyes turned to alarm when he spotted Sephiroth flicking open the blade and positioning his own hand over the cloth. ‘My lord? What are you doing?’ he asked, alarm in his voice.

‘I am doing what I think is right,’ Sephiroth said, rather forcefully, and sliced the fleshy bit of his right palm with the sharp edge, then allowing the dark drops of blood to drip onto the cloth.

Cloud gasped in horror. He picked up the cloth and pushed it into the wound, trying to staunch the blood.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Sephiroth said. ‘It’s a small cut.’

‘It’s not that I’m worried about,’ Cloud yelled. ‘It’s that fact that you’re contravening the specific purpose of this silk of consummation. Surely you know what it’s for!’

‘I do, which I why I don’t like it,’ Sephiroth said coldly. He wrenched his hand away, and got off the bed in search for a better bandage. Once his hand was wrapped in cloth, he lifted the veil again, and snatched the silk off the bed, before stalking all the way to the heavy wooden doors.

He opened the door, and tossed the silk out into the hallway, and then slammed the door closed.

‘My lord!’ Cloud gasped again, and this time he was riled up enough to hop out of the bed, despite his earlier self-consciousness about his own nudity. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’

Sephiroth turned to look at his new spouse in mild approval. Looks like he had a spine, he thought. ‘Refusing to participate in a tradition I personally find undignified and abhorrent,’ he said loftily. 

‘But …’ Cloud trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words. Then he took a deep breath. ‘I just don’t understand. Were you not planning to consummate this marriage tonight?’

‘I’m still thinking about it,’ Sephiroth challenged. ‘What, you actually want to do it? You want to fuck a stranger?’

‘No!’ Cloud snapped back. ‘But we don’t have a choice. I was sent here as tribute, as your consort. If we don’t consummate this marriage, I will have no legitimacy whatsoever as your spouse. There is no reason for me to be here at all. Then what the hell did you send for me?’

Sephiroth couldn’t say he didn’t – because by proxy, he had. Instead, he glowered at Cloud.

Cloud took a deep breath, then decided to try again, this time in a more placating tone. ‘King Sephiroth-’

‘I am not a king,’ Sephiroth cut him dead.

Cloud flushed. ‘General. My lord. I’m not sure what prompted this sudden change of heart. Is it because I am not to your liking? Is there anything-’

‘No,’ he snapped out, his voice cold enough to freeze ice. He watched Cloud process this for a moment, the sheer injustice of this arrangement, and how Sephiroth turned out to be such a dick as well … and defiance sparked in his eyes, those beautiful cloud-blue irises darkening into a stormy cerulean. Even though Cloud was complete bare-skinned, it seemed as though he wrapped a cloak of cold dignity over himself, and he lifted his chin.

‘My brother’s kingdom and independence depends on this tribute arrangement,’ Cloud said again, this time his voice was lilt with an undercurrent of anger. ‘Our relationship with the empire has endured many years of peace. Are you telling me now that you are rejecting this tribute, and therefore declaring war?’

Sephiroth glanced down his nose at his furious little consort. ‘No. That is not what I’m saying.’

The frustration was barely concealed behind those stormy eyes. ‘So what do you want, then? Pretend ?’

‘We are both men,’ Sephiroth explained icily. ‘We will never be able to reproduce, which is why you have been given to me not as wife but a consort. No one needs to know what happens behind closed doors, and certainly, not in this bedroom. _My_ bedroom. Now, the only proof they needed was the mark of virgin blood on the silk of consummation. It has been marked. They do not need to know whose blood it was. Now either get out of my room, or get out of my bed. I do not care which.’

Cloud defiantly remained seated on the bed, his body shaking in anger, a sheen of angry tears clouding over those eyes. ‘No.’

‘What did you say?’ Sephiroth whispered, and he saw Cloud barely suppress a flinch of fear.

‘You can’t …’ Cloud said, misery in his eyes. ‘Fuck. After years of preparation, I turn up and this is it? You married me, and now you can’t even stand to look at me in the face. Do I sicken you so much?’

No, Sephiroth wanted to say. He also couldn’t tell him that he felt a shred of pity for this stranger. Cloud didn’t know this, but ultimately what swayed his judgment was the fact that Cloud hailed from the strange kingdom where Sephiroth himself had been born. He had felt a strange kinship with the man, and thought that the fates could have easily reversed itself. He could have been the sacrificial offering, and Cloud the usurper who overthrew an emperor only to declare himself the ruler. Then perhaps he would have prayed for mercy to be shown by this stranger, as he was offering to Cloud now.

But perhaps this was not the mercy that Cloud wanted.

‘Why do you want this so bad?’ Sephiroth asked, suddenly feeling like the only chance had come for them to be truthful to each other. He had had a long day. The wedding ceremony itself had dragged on, and the festivities that followed exhausting. He was never one for social situations, and to be in the spotlight for so long, conducting activities that were so unfamiliar and repellant to him, and they all drained whatever energy he had left.

‘I have been groomed to want this since five years ago, when your empire sent us the missive that the tributary agreement would be renewed,’ Cloud said. ‘I left my home for this marriage. I am unlikely to see my family and homeland again. I was made to believe that this sacrifice was for a good reason. I have been degraded. Humiliated. Humbled. And now I find out that you have no interest whatsoever in honoring this agreement. Or in me.’

Sephiroth stared at the man, arms still folded. Those sparkling eyes, those unshed tears … He ripped aside those ridiculous hangings over the bed and folded himself onto the bed. He chucked his fingers and thumb underneath that sharp chin, and forced that gaze to meet his.

‘If you want me to fuck you that badly, I will entertain your request,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I greatly dislike the idea of being told to rut like a dog, but I suppose if you’re that insistent …’ He trailed off malevolently. ‘But let me make this very clear to you. Do not even for the slightest moment consider entertaining any ideas that you will earn my heart. It will never be yours, and I would prefer if you do not fall in love with me. Fall in line, and we will have a perfectly amicable relationship.’

Cloud reared back, as if he had been slapped. ‘Fuck you,’ he spat furiously.

Sephiroth grabbed Cloud’s wrists in one hand, and shoved him back, pinning those wrists against the bed. ‘As you wish.’ He lowered his mouth to Cloud’s snarling one, and punished him deeply with a searing, brutal kiss even as he writhed under that iron grip, anger fueling every effort to get up and out.

The kiss was hot and wet, churning with a red hot fury that threatened to melt them both. He thrust his tongue into that insistent little mouth, and was mildly surprised to find that the man underneath him was trying to reciprocate. Although it seemed like they were more likely fighting for dominance with their tongues, Sephiroth could feel himself getting sucked into that heat.

And suddenly the fight becoming something else altogether – the resisting turned into a pliant surrender, Cloud’s naked lower body arching upwards, yearning to touch skin. Sephiroth allowed his weight to drop down, and he could feel Cloud grinding shamelessly against his dress pants. Then all of a sudden, Cloud’s knee made contact with his balls – not hard enough to render him into a haze of pain, but with enough force behind him to make him wince, and break off the kiss.

‘Fuck you,’ Cloud said again. Then his circled his legs over Sephiroth’s waist, used his body weight to turn and flip the both of them, before pinning him to the bed.

Sephiroth looked up at the naked man straddling him, eyes ablaze. Then he lifted one arm, cocked it straight at Sephiroth’s face. But too bad for Cloud, because Sephiroth was left-handed by nature, and a well-trained soldier who kept up with his daily training. His reflexes caused his left hand to shoot out, block that incoming punch. He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Is that the best you can do? You should have sent me a letter instead. That would be quicker than how slowly it took you to telegraph your actions.’

Cloud swore, and flung his head downward to meet Sephiroth’s lips, despite his one arm being held out at an awkward angle. The kissing resumed, but this time, Cloud had the upper hand, thrusting his tongue into Sephiroth’s and taking every inch he was given, until their lips were both swollen and bruised, and they were breathless. Sephiroth could feel the hardness in his own pants, and the one that was pressed against his belly.

‘I want you to fuck me,’ Cloud breathed out harshly, his face inches from Sephiroth’s, and all Sephiroth could think was that his interest was now suddenly piqued, and he wanted to fuck the defiance out of this man and force him into a surrender. He was hot, and he was beautiful, and Sephiroth wanted to see it all. ‘And don’t worry about me falling in love with you. I wouldn’t, even if you were the last goddamned person on Gaia. I’d rather slit my own throat first.’

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth to retort, but Cloud shut him up by fusing their lips together. Those nimble fingers found the top of his shirt and got hold of it near the base of his neck, and ripped downwards in some sort of incandescent lust. Buttons popped off the shirt, scattered over his bare chest like pearls. In retaliation, Sephiroth trailed his finger down Cloud’s bare chest, found that pink, tender nipple, and tweaked it between his index finger and thumb, shocking a gasp out of Cloud’s mouth.

He lowered his mouth to Sephiroth’s collarbone, found the soft flesh there, and bit down hard, then sucked it until it was throbbing and red. Sephiroth lifted his head and placed it at the back of Cloud’s head, yanked back the hair until the blond yelped, both in surprise and pleasure, then took advantage of the momentary pause to scissor him until Cloud was on his back again.

Sephiroth could smell the floral scent emanating off that sweet, lithe body, and he pressed a bruise onto his shoulder, then moved down to the nipple. With his free hand, he unbuttoned his pants, then shucked it off in a quick move. When Cloud’s arms encircled his to pull him closer, he allowed it to happen, because it meant their erections could grind together in a mad kind of dance.

He closed his eyes and enjoyed the friction as their bare cocks rubbed up against each other, and he could start to feel the drops of pre-come lubricating that heat between them. He laid a hand on both their dicks, gave it an experimental squeeze and rub, and was almost shocked by the jolt of pleasure that danced delightfully up his spine.

But the writhing animal pinned beneath him wanted more, and wasn’t shy in demonstrating his desire. He spread his thighs shamelessly, wrapped them around Sephiroth’s bare waist, thrusting furiously. Sephiroth placed two fingers into his mouth, and felt Cloud suck on his fingers, his eyes big and blue and telegraphing clear lust. He placed the two fingers of the other hand against Cloud’s entrance, not surprised to find that it was slick with lubrication. He was well-prepared, and those muscles stretched pliantly as he scissored his fingers open. He bent and curled those slick fingers, feeling as though they were getting sucked in, and he twisted and prodded until Cloud’s eyes flew open, now with shock as those fingers found his sweet spot.

‘More,’ Cloud grunted harshly. ‘More.’

Sephiroth inserted a third finger, and watched as those blue eyes clouded over with pleasure, and suddenly he wanted to see all of him, when he was lost to the sensations that only his invaded body could feel. He withdrew his fingers even as Cloud moaned, ‘More, please!’

He angled his now-throbbing cock at that slick, wet entrance, probing gently, but Cloud gripped him in madness, and Sephiroth threw all caution to the wind, slammed into that tight wet hole that sucked him right in. Cloud froze, moaned in pain.

‘Look at me,’ Sephiroth commanded.

Cloud opened his eyes, panted through the pain. ‘Move,’ he managed to croak out.

Sephiroth did not need a further invitation. He pulled out, feeling that delicious squeeze on his cock as he slid into that tight wetness again, slamming their hips together so hard that he moved the both of them up the bed by a whole inch. Cloud’s moans of pleasure came in choked shout, becoming shorter and less coherent as Sephiroth kept slamming into him, thrusting as deeply as Cloud’s spread thighs would allow.

Even as he thrusted in and out, he could feel that pull in his belly start to build up into a sort of hellish, unbearable pleasure, an ache from deep within his loins that set fire to everything that governed his conscious mind. He let that primal drive take over, slamming endlessly into Cloud’s ass even as the blond was arched half off the bed, his wrists pinned to the sheets, his beautiful swan neck exposed, those blue eyes unseeing, liquid pools of desire that knew nothing but pleasure. His cries were becoming shorter and shorter, gasps of bliss overtaking him.

Sephiroth felt a warm splash of come against his own belly, and that felt like an electrifying signal to his own body, and he felt the pressure build up to the point where they ended in an explosion of stars that literally blinded him for a few seconds, and the most intense orgasm ripped through him and saturated his entire body with a kind of senseless bliss.

He panted harshly even as he floated back down to earth, his muscles spasming wildly before settling down into a deep, languid relaxation, and he collapsed onto Cloud, the both of them a sweaty heap, still joined as one. He could hear the thundering galloping in Cloud’s chest, and for a moment, simply closed his eyes and rested.

When the room finally came into focus, he rolled off Cloud, hissing as his spent cock left that tight heat. Cloud was on his back, his eyes blinking up at the ceiling, blank, staring.

Sephiroth lay next to him, feeling a thread of shame creep into his body.

What was that? What the hell was that? Sephiroth pushed his hair out of his eyes. It had been a long, long while since he had sex with anyone other than his own hands. He had forgotten how hot sex could be, how intense, how it could sear him whole and set him on fire. But that orgasm … that pleasure … that had been otherworldly. Perhaps it had been too long. 

That night, after they had briefly cleaned up, Sephiroth had relented to them sharing a bed together. After all, this was the bridal suite. Where else could Cloud go? They bedded down together in the huge bed, and Sephiroth pulled the sheets over their naked bodies. And even though they had engaged in the most intimate of acts earlier in the evening, they were certainly not comfortable enough to hold each other.

So he drifted off on his side of the bed. He could feel Cloud’s presence, but he was not close enough to touch. All he could feel as he faded away into a dreamless sleep was the unfamiliar presence of the platinum and steel band across his ring finger.


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke the next day – ass throbbing, in a completely unfamiliar room in a foreign country, under a set of cool sheets, in a big, empty bed. All alone, and feeling like a fucking used rag.

Cloud sighed, and rolled over gingerly, stretching out. There was a nice soreness from yesterday’s unfamiliar acrobatics, and a flush of embarrassment warmed him over when he thought about the intimate things that he and his newly minted husband had done last night.

In actuality, it wasn’t how he had pictured his wedding night at all. In his mind, it wasn’t all flowery with petals flying around the room as he was finally deflowered; no. That wasn’t what he had been expecting. But some tenderness, some growing realization that they were now bound to each other – that would have made things a little more pleasant. The act of consummation itself would seal that bond of matrimony between them, and there might be some pain involved, but hopefully some pleasure as well.

But the reality had been completely different. It was more painful than anticipated, and it was certainly beyond any pleasure he had expected. It was hotter, filthier, and a lot … angrier than anything his mind could conjure up. His new husband had gripped him like a slab of meat, used that massive cock of his to pound him into the mattress.

It had been what he wanted, right? So why the hell was he so … pissed off?

Just the thought of Sephiroth thrusting deep inside him was enough to keep the anger and lust flowing in his blood again.

Surely no one could blame him – his new husband turned out to be such a massive asshole, going through the wedding ceremony with the sourest look on his face, and then ending up refusing to bed him. What the fuck was up with that?

Cloud pushed himself off the bed, cast an irritated glance at the empty spot next to him, and hobbled slowly into the bathroom. He only had a brief glance at the bathroom yesterday, being too nervous to properly check out his surroundings. But the beautiful porcelain bath was encased in black and gold marble, and the ornate, oversized mirror above the vanity spoke of a luxury that he was now going to get used to. He looked at himself in the mirror.

Despite all his hopes and misgivings, he was here now. He lifted his chin in defiance. He was now the official consort of the General Sephiroth of the Shinra Empire. He might not have liked being referred to as a king, but that was what he was, Cloud thought. Maybe he should address him as emperor, Cloud thought spitefully. That would get his goat, wouldn’t it?

But he sighed, and forgot about that idea. Antagonizing his new husband was not high on his agenda, despite everything that had gone down last night. He drew a bath, tossed in the glass bowl of flower petals into the hot water, and settled down for a good soak. It did wonders for his throbbing lower half, and eased the ache in his thighs. He thought about soaking himself for the rest of the day, until he was all pruney and dried-up. After all, he had nowhere to go. No one to see. Even his lord husband … and where would Cloud even start to look for him?

But when the perfumed water cooled, he slipped out of the bath and into a thick, soft white towel, walking back into the bedroom. Where the bathroom was opulent and luxurious, the bedroom and adjacent living space was spartan, almost minimalistic. There were no ornate hangings except from the canopy of the bed, and the furniture were all black and practical in function. The only frivolous thing in the entire room was probably the large vase on the little dining table. Beautiful yellow and white flowers, moist and blooming, mixed in with deep green leaves overflowing from the narrow lip of the glass. That, and his wooden trousseau with its intricate Nibelheimian etchings and carvings deposited at the foot of the bed.

He noticed the breakfast trolley there, and it wasn’t before his bath. A discreet attendant must have heard him moving about to prepare for the day ahead. What time was it? He didn’t even know. Yesterday’s festivities had worn him out. A glance past the heavily curtained windows showed him that it was closer to noon than dawn, so he sat down and enjoyed the heavy brunch of ham and eggs, orange juice, toast and beans, finished off with a fruit salad.

When he finally pushed open the door leading to the wide hallway, there was someone waiting there for him. And for once, his face split into a smile, and he relaxed. Up ahead was the first and only friend he had made ever since he stepped foot onto Midgar. She had been cheerfully chatting away with his attendants, who snapped to attention. When she noticed his approach, and lifted a hand in a jaunty wave.

A month ago, he had disembarked his ship after travelling from the Western continent. He had arrived in the military port of Junon, then escorted by ground transport to the grand city of Midgar, where he was to be wed. He travelled lightly, with all his life’s belongings stuffed in that large wooden trousseau, and with a small retinue of loyal staff. Two weeks after he had been settled in at the royal residence, or as they called it, Shinra Tower, his retinue had said their goodbyes to him, leaving him alone in a spacious but empty room in the Tower, on foreign soil.

To his slight surprise and disappointment, his fiancé never once made an appearance to see him, as was customary. Once that had happened, he’d wondered to himself if the famed General had no interest in him, or had been too busy in the lead-up to the royal wedding, and the subsequent two-week honeymoon they were supposed to have after. Turned out to the be former, he thought acidly to himself. What a terrible let-down.

When he was a child being raised in Nibelheim Castle, he had learned his place quickly. He was always to be the second prince, second-in-line to the throne currently occupied by his father. But for all his privilege, he and his brother were not treated equally, and he understood why. He was always taught that one day, he was likely to be wed to the Shinra Empire as part of an ancient peace treaty. Likely, but not definite, because that peace treaty hadn’t been invoked since his great-aunt had been commanded to sail across the seas and marry the Emperor Remus of the Shinra Empire. That had been a couple of generations ago, and he had been raised with that possibility in mind.

Sometime during his puberty years, they sat him down, and explained to him that he was likely to be made consort to Prince Rufus, heir to the Shinra throne. That arrangement, if it took place, would probably be in ten years’ time. He would be required to comply with every instruction given to him. His mind, body and self would be given over to the future emperor and he would be the bridge to the continued peace between the tiny kingdom of Nibelheim and the giant expansionist Shinra Empire. Nibelheim thrived best with a high level of autonomy, and it was his role, his responsibility to maintain that peace.

He had been shown a picture of Prince Rufus, and Cloud had allowed his mind to run away with him. The prince was blond and serious, but very classically handsome. They were exactly the same age, and Cloud liked that. He felt like they could be partners, ruling the Empire in peace. He was under no illusion that he would hold the same power as the emperor, of course, but a consort held monumental importance by the emperor’s side. He had imagined himself well-loved by this handsome man, ensconced in a tranquil existence until the end of his days as a citizen of the Empire.

He had been about fifteen years old then, the height of puberty, so he wasted his days wanking off furiously to fantasies of this unknown, handsome blond his age, whenever he got a chance between history and etiquette lessons, or charity engagements and personal free time.

But even the possibility of that marriage was up in the air, because the tribute agreement had not been renewed or even mentioned. Of course, if he could choose, Cloud would prefer to stay in his own kingdom, helping his brother govern the capital city and its surrounding regions. It was a small kingdom, so everyone had to pull their weight. But he and his brother had a strong bond, and his parents had been loving, if not particularly kind. He never felt like the “spare” despite the fact that he was. And after all, it was home. Nothing could beat that. But if that could not come to pass, then it wasn’t so bad as consort to the handsome prince of Shinra. It could always be worse – he could be forced to marry Rufus’s father instead.

No, thank you.

Instead, it all went to hell. The news came in drips and drops at first, rumors of a military coup that had taken place. Then they had heard the emperor and only heir had been assassinated, and by their own general, no less. As born royals, the Nibelheimian royal family had been deeply appalled by this turn of events.

By then, he was already twenty years of age. And those feverish dreams of a fantasy love with a foreign prince had faded away. He had a place on his brother’s small council, and he was deeply entrenched in his own volunteer work with environmental chapters. And there was a sense of relief that he would be released from this agreement pleased him a lot more than he thought possible.

He had been in the middle of overseeing the installation of wind turbines in the mountainous regions of Nibelheim when the missive to renew tribute agreements under the new Empire arrived. He had remembered being so confused, because he thought his engagement would be with Prince Rufus. If he was dead, then wouldn’t the agreement be null and void? But he had misunderstood. The tributary agreement didn’t specify which emperor, it merely specified a consort of royal blood from the Nibelheim Kingdom.

The yawning, gaping horror had consumed him as he dimly arrived at the realization that he was now betrothed to someone completely different – and the worst kind of human too. A bloodthirsty murderer who broke his own oath of loyalty to assassinate his liege and then had the temerity to declare himself king – that sort of human. They had called him the Silver Demon of Wutai, the hero that emerged from the Shinra-Wutai war, the war general who had led the expansion across multiple continents and had left a trail of destruction behind him.

Cloud had been sat down then, and shown a picture of the general. ‘This is your future husband,’ he had been told, and his dread had only grown. Instead of the clean cut handsomeness of the blond Prince Rufus, this man looked … dangerous. He was older than Rufus had been, and in his battle uniform he was hostile, intimidating. He had long silver hair, and held in his left hand a fucking brutal barbarian knife almost as long as his lanky, tall body.

But those eyes terrified him the most. The general had strange, cat-like green eyes, with an intensity that scared Cloud even though he was not looking straight at the camera. Those eyes spoke of a burning ambition, and a deep, unfathomable sorrow behind them. He was stunning in an unusual, unearthly, androgynous way; beautiful like the carved marble of the old gods that they had once worshipped in the ancient Nibelheim Kingdom.

But no, not what Cloud had pictured for his future husband. Not an upstart military man who killed his own king and usurped the throne. He tore up the photo of the general, and flung the pieces in the air. ‘No,’ he had declared. ‘I’m not going to be his consort.’

But the missive still stood, and it was decided that they would obey the tributary agreement when they heard the old territories had begun sending over their own tributes. Of course none of them involved an actual human person, Cloud remembered thinking.

And for the first time in his twenty years of living, an advisor actually sat him down, and began explaining the specifics of his future role to him. His private lessons suddenly changed from policy to Shinra culture and customs, as well as wedding preparations. It was five years in the future, but they intended to groom him adequately.

He didn’t have the best attitude, in all honesty. He was still trying to process his upcoming wedding to the Silver Demon of Wutai. No one decent would have a nickname like that. Why couldn’t he have been the Silver Philanthropist of Midgar? Or the Silver Warrior of Shinra? Why _demon_? It certainly didn’t bode well for him.

But the absolute worst was when they had engaged a private tutor – a madam of a downtown brothel – to literally show him the ropes. She had been a good teacher once he got past his own prudishness, and he had been subjected to an extensive sexual education about how to pleasure a man. As if he didn’t know, considering he was a man himself, but he soon learned that there was a little more to it than rubbing his dick with his hands.

That had been five years ago. The future he had dreaded for so long had come to pass.

When he stepped foot onto Shinra soil, he was shocked by how different the climate was. The air in Midgar was terrible, with its close proximity to the constant pollution from Mako reactors that powered the Midgar and its surrounding regions.

The only thing that the general had done well in Cloud’s estimation, was that after he took over the empire, he had drastically cut down on the production of mako energy. They had now built solar reactors on the outskirts of the city, and only two of the remaining mako reactors were still functional. The Shinra Empire had been rich, but now it was positively wealthy because of the law of economics – the reduced supply of mako energy had driven up the prices as demand remained. After all, you could only craft materia of magic from mako; you certainly couldn’t do it with solar power.

Midgar was an enormous, thriving metropolis, not like Nibelheim, where there was always a provincial country feel about it even within the central capital itself. Life was easygoing there, and it wasn’t the same here. The citizens here also responded differently to his arrival – they were polite, but they were also distant. It was pleasant enough. He could adapt.

But the first person who seemed genuinely nice to him was this woman, the wife of a high-ranking officer within the Shinra army. She had approached him on his second day of arrival, cheerfully greeting him. She was so kind, and so sweet, seemingly aware of the challenges ahead of him. He felt safe with her.

‘Hey,’ he said.

‘Hey yourself,’ Aerith said cheerfully, then tucked her arm into the crook of his. She looked him over, assessed. ‘You look like you had a good night.’

‘Hah!’ he said. “Good night” was perhaps overstating it. Sure, the thought of the sex from last night could make him tremble, but that was tempered by the fact that his new husband was an incredible heel. Cloud forced himself to slow down the pace, make slightly smaller steps. If he walked funny at all, Aerith was too polite to mention it.

They made their way down to the lower levels of the Tower, where the administrative quarters were located. The Tower itself was a magnificent superstructure, a skyscraper that arrogantly pierced the Midgarian sky. All of the seventy floors were encased in a double-enforced tempered glass, thick concrete walls covered in beautiful marbled tiles. There were layers and layers of security everywhere, and Cloud felt like he was living in a high-security office complex, unlike the castle he had grown up in, with its crumbling and faded stone, warm hearths and open structures. The higher levels were designed for residential use for officers of the army and their families. And since the Tower was where his husband had set up his residence, well, that was that.

Aerith had promised to give him the grand tour – after all, there were 70 floors that he could explore. Not all of them were open for his access, he knew, but the tours and the endless meeting of new people took most of his day and occupied his mind 100%, which was a welcome distraction to what was awaiting him in his empty bedroom at the end of the day.

He managed to meet Aerith’s husband, who turned out to be a cheerful ball of energy, a young man about his age. Zack was a modest man despite his military accomplishments, and he and Aerith were a sweet young couple who seemed quite obviously in love. He tried not to think about how much he envied that – the easy affection between them, the little stolen glances and the absent-minded touching of their hands.

‘Hey, how about we take you out at some point, show you a little bit more of Midgar City? This building is nice and all, but that’s not all the city has to offer,’ Zack offered, and Cloud nodded gamely.

‘Yeah, we should go out at night,’ Aerith said. ‘Maybe consider coming out with us on a double date.’

Cloud and Zack both wrinkled their noses at the same time – Cloud knew what he thought of that idea. Aerith laughed at them, amused. ‘I think we should leave the newlyweds alone for a while,’ Zack said, but Cloud could guess from his expression that the last thing he wanted to do with his liege was to go out on a double date.

‘Ah, he’s not so bad, our Sephiroth.’ Aerith beamed at them. Cloud was glad that someone didn’t find him objectionable, because he certainly wasn’t jumping to his defense. But then, it seemed that Aerith was one of those rare, beautiful people who could see the best in everybody. He tightened his hold on her arm. He liked her, and he was grateful that she had taken him under her wing.

They parted ways in front of the reception of the SOLDIER First Class Division and Zack shook Cloud’s hand, pumping heartily. ‘So nice to meet you, Prince Cloud. And congratulations on your wedding once again. Welcome to Midgar.’ 

‘Just call me Cloud,’ he said. ‘I don’t expect anyone to call me by my title here. Especially not when my new husband seems to avoid any title but his military one.’

‘Ah yes,’ Zack concurred. ‘To be honest, he’s not a man for those things. And he’ll always be my general, to me anyway,’ he said loyally, and seemed to refuse to say more. ‘I hope you will be very happy together.’

He could see for himself that Sephiroth inspired a deep loyalty in his people, despite the coup five years ago to overthrow the actual people who had been born with the right to rule. As they walked away, Aerith seemed to sense his misgivings.

‘Don’t worry, Cloud. Since the uprising five years ago, it’s been calm in Midgar ever since. We’ve been at peace for some time. It’s a nice life here, you know. Ever since Wutai found out that the general ascended the throne, the fighting’s calmed down a lot. The Wutaians are terrified of him, and this is a man whose reputation precedes him. Zack occasionally gets sent out, but mainly for peacekeeping missions. He’s a good king,’ she said.

He had to take her word for it, because he had a hard time reconciling the man from yesterday to the man in his knowledge – a murderer, a traitor who committed regicide, which was ultimately high treason to him. Last night, he had been cold, almost indifferent despite the heat of their coupling.

When he had sliced that tiny knife against his palm, he had done so without flinching. There was no fear in those eyes the color of cold, green jade. Had he taken the lives of the emperor and his son with the same expression on his face?

And throughout the wedding ceremony yesterday, in the few instances they had made eye contact, those cat-like eyes had stared down at him, with what he thought was contempt. He had this innate superiority etched on his face, like he was better than anyone else. That had been another strike in a long list of why he was taking up the role of consort with a great deal of reluctance.

As they headed down the corridor to reach the huge elevator banks, they came face to face with two tall men. Cloud recognized them, because he had seen them standing by Sephiroth’s side during the wedding, a startling contrast to his side, where he had no one. He had prepared himself for it, for the old treaty agreements had specifically mentioned that he would have no attendants from Nibelheim, for once he stepped onto Shinra soil, he belonged to the empire.

One was tall, stoic and strong, a massive sword strapped to his back, and the other red-headed, flamboyant and especially eye-catching in his red leather. The brief words they had exchanged briefly during the wedding had been kind, he remembered. ‘Prince Cloud,’ the tall one said, and bowed his head a little in respect for his title. The other showed no such courtesy, instead, bounded up to him excitedly, delight flashing in his face. ‘Consort!’ he said, by way of greeting.

‘Please, call me Cloud,’ he said, accepting the strong handshake and the almost inappropriately flirty hug from the red-head.

‘Right, you remember us,’ the red-head said.

‘I do,’ Cloud answered politely, but after racking his brain for a long moment for their names, came up with nothing. ‘You were the groomsmen at the wedding.’

‘Yes, congratulations. It was a beautiful ceremony,’ the red-head said. ‘And … I hope you had a wonderful wedding night as well.’

His friend clapped him on the shoulder, made a face at him. ‘It’s nice to see you again.’ He turned to Aerith. ‘Aerith! What brings you here?’

‘Just showing Cloud around his new home,’ Aerith answered. ‘Back from lunch, Angeal? Genesis?’

That’s right. That were their names.

‘Yeah. You here to see Zack?’ Genesis said. ‘Geez, you two need to quit acting like newlyweds. It’s sickening to watch, you know,’ he teased. Then he turned to Cloud. ‘Speaking of newlyweds, you’re here to see your new husband?’

Cloud was wondering what was the nicest way to say no when Genesis answered his own question, steering Cloud and Aerith to the elevators. He pressed a button to go up. ‘Well, he’s not on this floor, but the one above. He didn’t want to come out for lunch with us. Maybe he’s waiting for you.’

‘I’m sure he isn’t,’ Cloud began, but behind him, Angeal sighed. ‘Genesis … you know he’s busy.’

Genesis turned an indignant head. ‘Excuse me?’ He sounded incredibly offended. ‘This is his new spouse we’re talking about. He shouldn’t be too busy for Prince Cloud.’ With his arm wrapped around Cloud’s shoulder, he could smell the whiff of good leather and expensive cologne.

‘Just … Cloud is fine.’

Aerith backed up. ‘I think I forgot to tell Zack something,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow maybe, Cloud? Same time, same place. Enjoy the rest of your day!’ She waved at him, a big smile on her face. He felt almost sad to see her go. In this strange land, he was pitifully low on friends. He looked up at the tall man draped across him so familiarly. Perhaps this one could be another one.

‘What is he doing in his office, by the way?’ Genesis complained. ‘Isn’t he supposed to be on his honeymoon? Doesn’t your honeymoon start today?’

Cloud didn’t know how to answer without incriminating himself and his dislike of the general. So he said nothing, but Genesis clued in quickly. His lips tightened, and he patted Cloud’s shoulder. ‘Yeah, that’s not good. Let’s rectify that.’

‘Genesis …’ Angeal’s voice was both a warning and plea, and Genesis crooked a finger at Angeal.

‘Come on, you. This is a natural extension of our groomsmen’s responsibilities. Stop shirking your duty already, Angeal. You know he’s not supposed to be treating his new consort this way. It’s a terrible way to welcome anyone into his new life!’

Despite Genesis’s flippant tone, his words resonated with Cloud. The elevator pinged musically, and opened with a swish. The three of them stepped inside, and Genesis pressed the button for the 51st floor.

It was a large floor, occupied by a single office. The outer seating area and its corresponding furniture were all white to match the sterile looking walls. They walked past the seating area and into an open space. Cloud’s boots sank into the rich, deep carpets. A long desk sat outside an office, and it was currently empty. The executive office itself was behind large glass windows, three of the blinds pulled down in its entirety. The one remaining screen was uncovered, and he could see the general sitting at his mighty desk, reading over documents, a pen resting in his left hand as he concentrated on his work. Behind that silvery head, hung on the wall was his freakishly dangerous katana, sitting perfectly balanced on two hinges of uneven heights.

Genesis laughed in delight. ‘Yes! It looks like his guard dog is on her lunch! This is the perfect opportunity for a sneak attack!’

Angeal sighed from behind them. ‘Genesis, pipe down.’

Cloud tilted his head toward the sword on the wall. ‘Does he bring that wherever he goes?’

‘Yes. Masamune is her name. She’s always by his side. Force of habit, I suppose.’ Genesis explained. ‘Well, you are his consort … but take it from me, Masamune is a very, very well-loved mistress.’

Sephiroth’s head lifted suddenly, as if he sensed their approach. His gaze found them, shifted from each of them until they landed on Cloud. Cloud returned that stare, defiance in his stance even as they walked towards his office.

Genesis whistled. ‘Man, do you see that look he’s giving us? How absolutely insulting!’ Cloud could not agree more, although he felt Genesis was mistaken. It wasn’t directed at all three of them, he was sure. Just one.

Sephiroth’s stare pinned him like a butterfly. When he had taken in his friends’ presence, there was exasperation tinged with affection. With Cloud, it was almost like a death stare, a faint distaste. Cloud could feel his body flush with irritation and shame. The last time they had stared into each other’s eyes like that, they had fucked each other like animals. He fought to reorient himself – this was no time to think about lusty, filthy thoughts, not when Sephiroth was staring him down like a dead animal that had been dragged in.

Sephiroth remained seated even when the three of them barged into the room. ‘Your highness!’ Genesis greeted, almost mockingly. ‘Whatever are you doing at work?’

‘What do you mean?’ Sephiroth returned curtly.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon?’ Genesis asked, even as Angeal slapped him on the back in warning.

Sephiroth narrowed those strange cat-like eyes. ‘What?’

‘Don’t “what” me!’ Genesis said, then released Cloud to perch his hip against Sephiroth’s desk. ‘You’re supposed to be off for two weeks, remember? I distinctly recall that’s why you made me regent in the first place. So you can have a vacation.’

‘He made me regent, you dumbass,’ Angeal said, sighing heavily.

‘Oh, only officially. We all know I’ll call the shots, because you’re unimaginative and uncreative,’ Genesis said flippantly, even as Angeal grunted. ‘Which means, Sephiroth, _my_ ass is supposed to be seated in that chair right now.’

Sephiroth flicked a mildly annoyed look at Genesis. ‘If that’s all you have to say, get your ass off my desk. I have work to do.’

Genesis rolled his eyes. ‘Get out of here, Sephiroth. Your consort is wandering around, touring the Tower when he should be in bed and pleasured in a great number of ways.’

‘Wow,’ Angeal said.

‘Uh,’ Cloud began.

Genesis turned to Cloud in faint apology, but did not seem at all sorry or embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, darling. Just speaking the truth, that’s all.’

‘You don’t have to be crude, Genesis,’ Angeal said. ‘You’re so embarrassing, man.’

‘It’s true! Look at how beautiful your new consort is!’ Genesis slipped off the table and presented Cloud with a dramatic flourish. ‘Why are you leaving him alone on your first day of being newlyweds? You should be parading around together, giving the public a taste of newlywed bliss. Remember how favorable the public opinion polls were, just before the royal wedding? It would be even higher now, if you keep it up. Remember that study on citizenry morale and the increased productivity?’ Genesis clicked his tongue at him. ‘Surely you can’t expect him to wait for your return in that dreary little room of yours.’

The faint expression that crossed Sephiroth’s calm face suggested that this was exactly what he had expected Cloud to do.

Cloud didn’t say anything, but merely crossed his arms across his chest and looked away. Looked anywhere but at this man. So it took him by complete surprise when Sephiroth did actually get up from his chair, and reached up for Masamune. He pulled out an ornate silver sheath and in one swift move, slammed the katana home. He tilted his head in the direction of the door. ‘Let’s go, then.’

‘Yeah, that’s the way!’ Genesis cheered.

Angeal seemed struck dumb by it all. ‘That actually worked?’

Sephiroth ignored it, and walked to the door. After a moment’s hesitation, Cloud followed his lead, and quickened his pace until he could catch up to Sephiroth’s brisk walk. In a strange silence that was awkward and not at all comfortable, they took the elevator down to the ground floor, where they walked out into the lovely afternoon sunshine.

Where the Silver Demon walked, the people milling about the square in front of the Tower stared, discreetly pointing, whispering. He could hear the clicks of the mobile cameras, not exactly discreet, but not that intrusive either. The vibe was mostly respectful, and many of them called out congratulations, sounding genuinely happy for their general. He, in response, would tilt his head in a curt nod. Despite Genesis advising him to put on a show, it was like Sephiroth refused to, or didn’t know how to.

He didn’t do things like hold hands or stroll like lovers. He didn’t try to make conversation. Cloud thought they must look like a strange pair, walking together, standing close but not close enough to touch, the general with his katana by his side, and Cloud with his arms swinging loosely by his side. They walked like two people exercising, having a brisk evening walk outside the Tower. The unexpected comedy of the situation surprised a little chuckle out of him.

When Sephiroth heard that sound, he stiffened, then stared down at Cloud.

And there it was again – the searing, jade-green gaze that looked down at him, the usual contempt now swept away by a temporary surprise before looking away again.

That evening, Cloud had his dinner alone in the dimmed bedroom. He had drawn another bath for himself, and rubbed his body down with the fragrant oils and prepared his body appropriately. The hot water had soothed away the worst of the aches, and he felt rejuvenated even as the sun touched the horizon. He spent a good amount of time standing at the balcony, feeling the breeze ruffle through his hair. He laid his head down on his arms resting on the tall balustrade, closing his eyes for just a moment.

The faint noise he heard behind him jolted him awake, and he saw the general walk into his suite. Their eyes met, and once again that small expression crossed his face, as if he had forgotten that someone else now lived with him in that space.

‘Hello,’ Cloud said.

Sephiroth tilted his head in acknowledgment.

‘Have you had dinner?’ Cloud asked. ‘I ate since I was hungry, but there was your share, and I can heat them up-’

‘No.’

Sephiroth walked into the bedroom, and he could hear the bathroom taps being turned on, running water splashing into the bath tub.

Cloud could only pray for patience. The man wasn’t prone to opening his mouth. For someone who ruled an empire, he sure was insistent on keeping that damned mouth shut. How on Gaia did he even communicate with his officers?

He stepped into the bedroom just as Sephiroth removed his belt and sash, pulled off his long belted jacket and hung it up in the closet. Cloud noted that he was a methodical, tidy man, and mentally counted that was another tick in the pathetically short column in the list of pros and cons of being married to this supposedly fearsome man. As he kept stripping, Cloud kept staring. When Sephiroth finally snapped off his gloves with an irritated little tug, Cloud knew that he finally got his attention.

‘I would have thought you’d be in bed by now,’ Sephiroth said pointedly. It was close to ten.

‘I can’t,’ Cloud said. ‘I was waiting for your return.’

‘And why is that?’ Sephiroth asked, but in such an indifferent tone that for a moment, Cloud was tempted to not answer him.

‘Because …’ he trailed off, reluctant to state the reason. It was highly embarrassing to pose such a request to his newlywed stranger of a husband, but it had been drilled into him by his sex education advisor that there were two rules that he absolutely had to obey if he wanted to make a successful consort.

‘Number one. Make sure you make love to your spouse every day,’ she had said, in her highly-affected accent. She was a tall, thin woman, with such sharp cheekbones that it could cut glass. She had a long history behind her as a paid companion, and eventually rose to run her own very successful brothel. She had mentored many paid companions and escorts herself, and had been deemed the best candidate (not to mention the classiest, and the most expensive) to teach a royal prince on how to maintain his sexual allure with his future husband.

Although maintaining it seemed to be useless right now, he noted. He was trying, and failing to establish any headway.

He had laughed then, upon hearing her first rule. Having sex every night? Sounded more like a damned nuisance, he had thought. But she smashed her fist down on the table in front of him, bent so close to him that he could smell that sweet, thick perfume. ‘I’m serious. It is imperative that you fuck every single night. You two do not currently have a bond. But if you fuck right, and every day at that, you will form a close physical bond that will ultimately be the foundation for an emotional one. Sex is a powerful tool if you use it right.’ She had then drilled that idea into his head for five fucking years, and now he felt like he had been conditioned to expect to have sex with his husband every single day. He had been trained that he wouldn’t be able to sleep without that orgasm released. It had been imperative.

That lesson had been easy enough.

But the second, not so much. ‘And finally,’ she said. ‘The second rule. The most important rule, in fact.’

‘You said that about the first,’ he pointed out. She nearly slapped him.

‘The second rule is that you will submit.’

_Submission_? That was not his jam. ‘Yeah, I’m not going to-’

‘You will learn submission,’ she said to him stonily.

‘Hang on, no. I have autonomy, I can say no if I want to-’ he had protested. Who the fuck did she think she was dealing with? Before he was a consort, he was a prince-

‘Not that,’ she had said. ‘Submission to his pleasure, and your own.’

‘What?’ It was the last thing he had said, before he had been subjected through a series of utterly humiliating and degrading lessons about the true meaning of submission.

He didn’t even want to think about it. Those memories brought a deep, fearful shudder through his body.

Back inside the bedroom, Sephiroth waited. And waited. He did not appear to want to do Cloud any favors by making it easy for him. He was forcing him to say it. What an absolute tosser, Cloud thought. If he could make things better by pulling off the wedding ring on his left hand and beaning the silver-haired bastard with it, he would do it willingly, and in less than a heartbeat.

‘I stayed up … because I would like us to have sex.’

The fucker didn’t even break his expression at that. ‘I see.’ He stripped down to bare skin, tossed his clothes into the hamper. And without a further response, he turned his back, walked into the bathroom.

Good gods above, Cloud thought, trying to rein in his anger. He curled his hands into his blond hair, but knew tearing the hair from his head would not help. It would not help anything, in fact, unless those tufts of hair could somehow turn into sharp projectiles which he could throw at his husband, who had the responsiveness of a rock.

He heard the sounds of the taps turning off. With some degree of resignation and a great deal of gratitude that he was only doing this in front of one person, he stripped down until he was as naked as the day he was born. And with a deep breath, he walked into the bathroom.

Sephiroth was chest deep in the water, facing the door that Cloud had appeared at. That ridiculous long hair was soaking in the perfumed water, and there was a sheen of moisture over his entire face and body. Even with his hair matted with water, he still looked … like a million Gil. His arms were stretched out alongside the porcelain edge of the bath, and those arms were sculpted, firm musculature honed by years of discipline and intense training. He was a fine specimen of a human being, and so many people had told him he had struck a gold mine.

Cloud scoffed internally. The jackass was probably well aware of that, which is why his body language telegraphed utter relaxation, and with a strong hint of … confidence? His eyes were closed, but when Cloud stepped in he opened them a fraction, into slits that somehow reminded him of a snake that was about to strike.

He made absolutely no invitation to Cloud, to make it less awkward for him. He did nothing to help alleviate his embarrassment, or even consider extending a hand to him. In fact, he didn’t move at all, and those cat-like eyes simply followed his movements with a great deal of indifference. Cloud gritted his teeth, and kept moving. There was no doubt now, he knew, that there was a streak of sadism in that man.

Fuck him. Cloud lifted his chin, and walked up to the bath resolutely. Even as he dipped a toe in, he lamented that this would be his third bath for the day. He slipped down into the huge bath of water, and submerged himself up to the shoulders, then slowly made his way up to the general.

Sephiroth clearly had no intentions to move, and his silent, glacial persona made good on those intentions. The message was clear – If you want it, come and get it yourself.

Cloud told himself there was nothing to it now; he swallowed that anger deep inside, banked the embers that still flamed inside him. He allowed a rather different feeling to rise through him, one that flushed through his veins, heating them with a very different warmth. He pulled himself through the water, on his knees, to reach that dispassionate statue of a god.

Cloud only stopped when his knees were positioned on either side of Sephiroth’s hips, and he brought his dampened hands up to that motionless chest – that man’s breathing was so well modulated it frankly bordered on insulting – and then settled his ass on Sephiroth’s thighs, getting so close that their groins almost touched.

He looked up, and Sephiroth still had to look down slightly at him, that same look in his eyes that Cloud knew that he would come to despise. With faint annoyance, he now understood it wasn’t just the angle from their difference in heights – it was the fact that Sephiroth had this astounding ability to look like he was always looking down on him.

Cloud tilted his head upwards, stretching his upper body upwards until he was at Sephiroth’s eye level – and he moved in until they were a breath away.

Sephiroth did not even attempt to bridge that miniscule distance between them.

Cloud swiftly pushed through to graze those unmoving, still lips, and to his shock, the man actually reciprocated the kiss. The water they were soaking in was hot, with steam rising to fog the mirrors. But the heat of the kiss was scorching, and he leaned into it, letting Sephiroth’s tongue lick the inside of his mouth, his strong teeth nibble on his tongue.

His hands moved from that firm chest to wrap around Sephiroth’s neck and those broad shoulders, pulling them both closer until there was no more distance between them. He could feel the general’s arms curl around his ass, hands gripping his hips, his fingers making indentations on his buttocks. Then those clever fingers probed deeper at that secret entrance, testing, touching at that spot where the skin puckered.

He felt his penis twitch to life, that familiar surge of lust in the pit of his belly, filling his shaft with blood until he was hard as a rock, molten lava starting to move through him. He had to break the kiss, because he felt like he was drowning, overheating. A soft gasp was torn from his throat when a long finger fingered his hole, penetrated into his tender, sucking insides. That single finger felt intrusive, filling a space in him that he wasn’t aware was there first place.

Before he could even adjust to that invasion, a second finger followed, and this time, he unleashed a shocked cry of discomfort, and yet his body welcomed the invasion especially once those fingers started curling and twisting inside of him, none too gently. He could only feel that titillating pleasure as those fingers slammed against his prostate, and this traitorous, greedy body of his had his hips bobbing up and down, fucking itself frantically on those digits.

He buried his moan into that elegant crook of Sephiroth’s neck, and for his penance he felt teeth clamp down swiftly on his left shoulder. Sephiroth sucked at the tender flesh so hard and Cloud was certain that he would bruise tomorrow, but the frisson of excitement that tumbled through him was more than worth it.

Suddenly those two fingers that he fucked himself on wasn’t enough. Yesterday had been like eating from the tree of knowledge – he now knew for certain what he wanted when he only had a vague idea before. He reached down to touch, and was pleased to find that Sephiroth was as stiff as an iron bar, curving against his own belly.

Cloud knew what he wanted – no, needed that hard cock inside of him to fill him up. And the general seemed to understand, with that sly little glint in those green eyes and the tiniest, most minuscule smirk around his lips. He removed his fingers, and Cloud wasted no time in filling that now empty space inside of him by impaling himself on that massive cock. He might have been a little too enthusiastic, because when his weight and gravity brought the full force of that massive cock slamming inside of him, the pain nearly made him pass out for a second.

He gasped and moaned at the same time, freezing in place as he waited for his body to adjust to that initial onslaught of sensation. But even as his forced-open asshole was becoming used to the pleasure and pain that was continuously assaulting his nerves, he caught that sly glint again in those eyes, felt those strong fingers holding his hips in place, before moving inside of him, plunging deeper and then pulling out of him and slamming in again.

His eyes went blind from his nerves being oversensitized on both ends of the spectrum; the agonized shout that tore from his throat was hoarse and addled, soaked with want and need. He felt himself being physically lifted up and down, his tight hole squeezing around the enormous cock, filling him up until he was fit to burst, and every time that long shaft slapped against his prostate all he could do was scream.

Sephiroth hoisting him up and down like a damn puppet was soon taken over by his own instincts, and soon he was riding the hell out of that, his eyes closed, his teeth gritted, as if he could physically block off the blow of sensations that rained down upon him. He couldn’t see a thing, he couldn’t hear anything. All he could feel was the kaleidoscope of pain and pleasure, momentum heaving him up and down, speeding with an inhuman velocity on the path to his own orgasm. He fucked himself to a spectacular finish, painting them both briefly with streaks of his come, before the whirling chaos of the waters scattered them away.

Even as his hips slowed considerably, he felt Sephiroth re-gripping him, yanking his hips up and down, heard the soft grunts from the man that probably indicated he was close to finishing. With a thought to that sadistic glint he saw in the other man’s eyes, he vengefully, pettily squeezed his own ass cheeks as hard as he could, and was rewarded for it when he heard a deep moan from the general’s throat, his eyelids fluttering closed as he found his release.

They spent the next few minutes simply leaning up against each other – rapidly cooling skins touching, but not hugging. Cloud breathed in and out until he felt his heart beating in a regular fashion again.

He pushed his wet hands into his own face and wiped it down. He shifted, felt Sephiroth’s cock slip out of his used ass, and stood so quickly his knees actually weakened for a brief moment. Bathwater sluiced off his body like a waterfall, and he didn’t care if he splashed Sephiroth in the face. He flung a leg over the edge of the tub, pulled himself out with the last of his strength.

He didn’t even bother wiping himself with a towel, wanting only to leave with whatever little dignity he had left, to slip within the sheets and pass out.

And he certainly did not bother looking back. 


	3. Chapter 3

He stared down at the sleeping figure in his bed.

A little on the slender side than his usual type, fair skin that never saw much of the sun. Perfectly reasonable, since Nibelheim was a mountain kingdom with a climate on the cooler side. His sleeping consort was curled on one side, in a fetal position at the very edge of the bed – as if he was just borrowing the space, knowing that it wasn’t his to begin with. And he was right.

Sephiroth watched the rise and fall of the curve of that back, his body naturally still in its deep repose. His long, blond eyelashes glinted from the weak morning sun that streamed in through the window. His head was cradled by his folded arms, his body barely covered with the sheet, having been kicked around until it was tangled and bunched around his hips.

He slept like a child, Sephiroth realized. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been kicked in the night, but that wouldn’t have mattered. Sephiroth had been trained to sleep like a military man – he fell asleep instantly, and he slept lightly. He barely moved in his own sleep, usually leaving a yawning chasm between the both of them in that unnecessarily spacious bed.

He wasn’t used to it, and felt like he didn’t need to put up with it. He made a little mental note to speak to one of his senior attendants, have his consort moved out of his space and into one of his own. Maybe down the hall. Or another floor entirely, even better.

It wasn’t as if Sephiroth didn’t like him – no. He just didn’t care for the idea that he was now tied to this one person who seemed to quite actively dislike him, but couldn’t seem to get enough of his dick. He didn’t mind the sex, not at all. But the fact that he was _married_ to this man? Sephiroth’s type in the past had been simple – athletic, fit, and most importantly, good for a fuck or two and with no desire to form deeper attachments.

And here he was stuck with this feisty, lusty little cat with claws. His mouth never said anything openly defiant – it was all in his eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes were hard with unspoken emotions, and that was the sort of complication that Sephiroth did not need. They had been married for nearly a week now, but it had felt like a century.

Every night when he returned home, this consort would dutifully be awaiting him. After the first three days, he caught on quickly enough. Despite whatever mental or physical fatigue he had, he would shuck it off, along with his own clothes, and sheath his dick into that wonderfully tight, wet passage inside of his consort. The location hardly mattered – the prince would follow him into whatever room or space he was in until he gotten what he wanted. Over the dining table, on his hands and knees buried deep in the carpet, on the bed – until he had been fucked into oblivion. Then Cloud would toss an angry, haughty look at the man who had just given him what he wanted, and stalk off to clean up, and to bed. They exchanged no words; their communication limited to grunts and moans.

He could admit that this sort of behavior threw him. No one actively disliked him so much – to his face, anyway. The sooner he got his spouse out of his space, the quicker he could regain his equilibrium.

He was incredibly busy during work hours. So it did not help when his mind would wander, abruptly meandering over that especially intense fucking session the night before. That was no place, or time to indulge in those prurient fantasies. It was affecting his concentration, and he didn’t like it.

Even now, he stood over the sleeping young man, and briefly considered the idea of fucking him awake before he discarded that very notion. He wanted to get in a training spar with Angeal, before trying to tackle the mountain of redeployment approvals that Zack was now hounding him for on a daily basis. Besides, last night – no, this morning itself, his sleep had been interrupted rather rudely.

He had been yanked back into the land of consciousness, and his hands automatically reached for Masamune which was always by his bedside. His palm had already closed over the hilt when his mind processed what was happening. There was no threat, unless you counted the insistent rubbing up that his consort was doing.

Cloud had somehow snuggled up against him, back curling into Sephiroth’s chest. Was he … burrowing for warmth? Sephiroth wondered confusedly before realizing that wasn’t just it – that firm, tight ass was now actively rubbing up against his completely erect cock, teasing and titillating him into a brutal, sleep-soaked arousal where his body was now responding in an out-of-control manner. He realized that Cloud was still half-asleep, but his ass was twitching, as if in search of something.

Sephiroth sighed, then moved to shove him back to his side of the bed. But those half-lidded eyes stared up at him, sleepily, confusedly, drenched with lust and need. ‘Please,’ he moaned. ‘Please.’

Sephiroth got up to his knees, shoved him back on his stomach, yanked up those pliant hips and slammed into that welcoming tightness. The groan that leeched out of Cloud was helpless, an aroused mewling that he had never made before, having been unleashed by the lack of inhibition on his part. The only sounds in the black night was those whimpers of need, and the snapping of his hips as skin slapped against skin.

He collapsed against that shuddering body, letting the orgasm roll through him even as his eyes closed, the call of sleep having summoned him back. They parted sometime during the night, and in the morning, he felt spent, muscles loose and limber.

That had been probably a couple of hours ago. And here he was now. Still staring.

Enough.

He got dressed, picked up Masamune, and headed out the door.

Outside the confines of his home, he felt like he could think better. More clearly. When he was in close proximity to his consort, all he could smell was that subtle fragrance of magnolia and pent-up lust and aggression. It just threw him, distracted him. And he could not afford distractions.

He was doing his warm-ups in the training room, stretching his muscles when Zack Fair sauntered in, in an annoyingly cheerful fashion.

‘What are you doing here?’ Sephiroth asked. ‘And why are you so … happy?’

Zack whistled. ‘Morning, sir. You’re in a crappy mood today.’

‘It’s five in the morning,’ Sephiroth answered curtly. ‘I don’t have to be nice to you.’

‘You’re never nice to anyone, my lord,’ Zack said seriously.

‘I’m here to spar with Angeal, not you.’

‘Yeah, you’ll have to make do with me, sir,’ the fucker said cheekily. ‘He texted me last night and said that he wouldn’t be able to make this morning’s training with you.’ He then trailed off, started doing his stretches by doing squats.

Sephiroth waited, but it didn’t look like Zack was about to explain.

‘Why?’ Sephiroth said, in exasperation.

‘Oh. I don’t know,’ Zack shrugged. ‘Something about a date. With Genesis.’

‘What?’ Sephiroth asked, baffled. He must have heard wrong. ‘A _date_? That’s not possible.’ The very idea of his best friends going out on the date with each other only confused him.

‘Hey,’ Zack shrugged again. ‘That’s what he said.’

‘Fine,’ Sephiroth answered. He’d get to the bottom of this, and Angeal would have a lot of explaining to do.

Angeal _and_ Genesis? What?

Surely not. He had never even known they were interested in each other.

He turned his attention back to Zack. ‘Let’s do a couple of laps,’ Sephiroth said.

‘A couple?’ Zack gasped. ‘Only a couple? We make the Third Classes do ten laps, twice a day, sir.’

‘Shut up and run, Fair,’ Sephiroth said, and took off across the large arena. This morning he had programmed the training room to reflect locale setting #43, Mountain Summit. Snow stretched across the harsh, wintry landscape as far as the eye could see, and the blazing sun was up in the sky, and the thin air was barely pumping into his lungs.

When they were done with their ten laps around the seemingly breathless landscape, Sephiroth took up his Masamune to teach this insolent pup a lesson.

Zack was young, and a very good soldier. He showed an incredible amount of promise with his talents, which was no surprise how he had risen so quickly, especially in the aftermath of the coup. He was a skilled swordsman, and Sephiroth considered him a reliable, well-liked commander, his popularity often translating into the ability to raise morale and elicit cooperation amongst the soldiers who followed him. His paperwork skills were mediocre at best, but it was an acceptable enough standard for a ranked officer.

The only thing that really annoyed him about Fair was the fact that he was so irritatingly cheerful … all the time. He did not understand where he got any of that energy from. But for this training spar, it would do.

Zack fought openly and freely, with a great amount of power behind his strokes. It was reminiscent of Angeal’s own fighting, and it wasn’t surprising since he had been the one to mentor Zack. But his wild impatient swinging and his constant love of chaining his attacks meant that he often left himself open. Sephiroth could parry all day until the cows came home. He kept his sword arm limber, his wrist relaxed, and waited until the idiotic pup wore himself out.

And the moment he sensed his energy flagging, Sephiroth injected an extra burst of power to fling away one of Zack’s attacks, and then launched his own offense. He enjoyed seeing Zack on his back foot for a while, and toyed with him a little bit before blindsiding him by luring him into swinging his sword downwards, dodging it and then spinning around only to press the keen edge of Masamune into the side of his ribs.

Zack froze, panted to get his breath back even as Sephiroth put down his katana. ‘Stop being so greedy with your strokes, Fair,’ Sephiroth advised. ‘Now, again.’ And then they were back at it, swords clashing and clanging, feeling the sure steps as his feet lightly brush against the snow in a strange, mad choreographed dance.

There was nothing he loved more than this – wind whipping in his hair as he moved swiftly, Masamune the natural extension of his left hand. Always, always, his grip was light as the air, and his fed the swings with the power from his arms and chest. He was made for fighting, for war. And it seemed like everything else was … secondary.

And when he saw the challenged smile on Zack’s face, Sephiroth’s estimation of the man went up a notch higher. A little notch, but still. And he brought Masamune down on Zack’s sword, felt a smirk on his own face, and pushed Zack back.

It was nearly eight by the time they were done. The spar had run a little longer than he usually allowed himself, but it had been surprisingly fun. He didn’t often spar with Zack, but that might change. Zack had Angeal’s power and an injection of youthful energy, and a good dose of unpredictability.

Sephiroth sheathed Masamune, and turned off the reality augmentation machine on the computer. When their surroundings dissolved, he saw four people standing outside of the room, looking through the glass. He assumed they had watched the spar.

Zack lay on the ground, utterly destroyed. ‘I think you killed me, my lord.’

‘No, I didn’t. If I had, you would at least be quiet.’

‘Man, you wrecked me in the last round.’

‘I wouldn’t have, if you didn’t leave yourself wide open like that. Fix that flaw, and I’ll spar with you again.’ Sephiroth pressed a bottle of water to his mouth, gulped down the whole thing in one go. He kept his eyes on the group outside, who were chattering amongst themselves.

He gave the stink-eye to Angeal, who shrugged neutrally, with only the slightest hint of apology. Genesis, on the other hand, was already gesticulating wildly and dramatically in that special way only he could. He seemed to be explaining something to Zack’s wife.

Sephiroth walked over to Zack, and dropped an unopened bottle of water onto his chest. Zack grunted his thanks as he cracked it open and downed the water. Sephiroth toed Zack in the shoulder. ‘Your wife’s here.’

Zack’s head perked up. ‘She is? Aerith?’ He swung his head wildly until he spotted her, and then it was like a completely unnecessary reunion of sorts as he scrambled to his feet and ran to her, love in his body with those outstretched arms and his voice as he shouted her name. ‘Aerith, missed you so much, babe!’

When the glass doors opened ever so briefly as Zack rushed out, Sephiroth could hear her raise her own voice in joy, calling his name, before jumping another octave, saying , ‘You’re all sweaty, Zack! Don’t hug me, I just showered!’

Sephiroth chuckled quietly to himself, and opened another bottle of water. He chugged this one a little more slowly this time, feeling his heart beat slow into its regular beating rhythm. He muscles felt warm and sore, and his mind clear. What a wonderful feeling.

That almost made it a little easier to stare the prince consort in the eye.

He stood at the glass with the others, body angled towards the others and the ongoing conversation, but his head was turned toward the room, and his eyes were locked onto him. He looked deep in thought, those brilliant blue eyes open and staring straight at him. Having exercised off all his excess energy, it made it a little simpler to push aside those lustful thoughts of taking him then and there, heedless of the audience around them.

Zack bounded back into the training room, and shouted to Sephiroth, ‘Hey sir, the lot of us are going up to my place for breakfast. Come along with us!’

Breakfast? _Breakfast_? What was this, a party?

‘No.’

Zack pouted. ‘Oh, come on. It’s the weekend.’

And so it was, he realized. But weekends were irrelevant to him. If he took time off, what the hell would he actually do?

‘You don’t have to go into the office, sir. It’s the weekend. Come hang out at our place, and if I’m up to it again I’ll have another training session with you this evening. And this time, I’ll wipe the floor with you.’ Zack was saying.

Sephiroth smirked thinly. ‘No.’

‘Fine, all right then. Your consort’s coming with us, by the way. And so is Gen and Geal. It’s your loss.’

_Gen_ and _Geal_? Who the fuck did this young pup think he was to give his friends such atrocious nicknames? And would he even dare to give Sephiroth one? What would it be, anyway? Seph? Sef?

If those words ever left Zack’s mouth, Sephiroth would belt him – after he ran him through with Masamune, of course.

Sephiroth tossed the bottles, and grabbed his katana. He was looking forward to a quick, cold shower, then plunge into the thick sheaf of paperwork he knew was already sitting on the left corner of his desk. If he wanted to make the best of his secretary Cill’s half day, he would have to be quick about it. He pushed open the glass door, with Zack grumbling behind him.

‘Hey, Sephiroth,’ Genesis said, then yawned hugely. There were bags under his eyes, and a vague rosy tint on his relaxed face. Sephiroth tried not to goggle. He was yawning? At nearly nine in the morning? Really? It was as if he had been up half the night.

Wait. Did he really let his thoughts go there? His eyes darted between his two oldest friends, and then slinked away evasively. It took a bigger, braver man than him to imagine what his friends had been up to last night. Had Zack been right, or was he exaggerating as usual?

Angeal clapped his massive hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder. ‘Zack invited all of us to his apartment for breakfast. Come along?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth began, but noted too late the interest that now gleamed in Genesis’s eyes. That man was a contrarian at heart – the moment he sensed resistance, he poured whatever charm he could muster into trying to change his mind. Damn. He should have just made a cheap excuse and run away.

‘Sephiroth,’ Genesis said, in his silky voice. ‘It’s really too bad that you won’t join us, because your lovely consort here has already accepted on your behalf.’ He motioned to Cloud, then slipped behind him and patted that slim arm.

To his credit, Cloud only raised a single eyebrow, but said nothing.

But Zack knew how to push his advantage, and immediately jumped in to fill the silence. ‘Yeah, Sephiroth. Come with us. Anyways, you know I need to speak to you about the redeployment commands for the 41st Company-’

‘I know,’ Sephiroth said curtly. ‘The documents are sitting on my desk, as we speak. I intend to sign them as soon as I get into my office,’ he said pointedly.

‘Well, I also wanted to talk to you about adjusting some of the drills for new batch of Third Class. And also for the new SOLDIER candidates. Might be good to introduce some new drills,’ Zack said. ‘So we might as well do it over breakfast.’

‘It’s a working breakfast,’ Genesis wheedled. ‘You can talk shop all you want. And besides, if you don’t come, don’t blame us for telling your new husband all about the skeletons in your closet, including your past sexual dalliances, or worse …’ he trailed off threateningly.

‘What could be worse than his sexual dalliances in the past?’ Zack asked without thinking.

Angeal swatted Zack in the back of the head. ‘Stop talking already, Fair.’

Genesis turned to Zack, and explained in a dramatic voice, eyes widened in exaggeration. ‘It’s much, much worse. Like how much shampoo it _really_ takes to wash that frivolous head of hair.’

The laugh that emerged from that stupid joke managed to come from his new husband, who immediately changed it into a cough that fooled no one.

‘It would be an absolute honor if you could grace our hearth with your presence, my lord,’ Aerith said, and her request was so prettily made that he found it hard to say no. He had always found that woman to be stunning, with her especially luminous large green eyes. There was just a special, confident serenity about her that he had always admired, and could never say no to. Perhaps in a different life, he had owed her. It just baffled him how that bone-headed fool of a pup had managed to convince her to marry him.

‘Very well,’ he relented with a curt nod. ‘But I do need a shower first. All of you go ahead and eat without me. I’ll join you soon. Where’s your apartment, Fair?’

He departed with the address in mind, and headed back to his own place for a shower. Since it was the weekend, instead of his military coat and uniform, he pulled on a sweater and pants instead.

He couldn’t really believe that he had been talked into having breakfast with that motley lot.

But truth be told, due to the increased demands on his time since he took over the running of the empire, he had met socially with Genesis and Angeal a lot less. Of course, they still saw each other on a daily basis, and they pretty much still worked hand-in-hand.

The military coup he had led five years ago had demolished the existing structures of the empire, leaving behind a fresh, clean slate. While he had refused the title of Emperor, he remained General – which meant that all military matters were still under his purview. Heidegger had been one of those that he had ordered the death of but did not personally carry out – that foolish incompetent had created an impotent army, and not to mention he was too loyal to the emperor to turn. After the coup, he had merged the command of the army and SOLDIER, and they remained under his watchful eye.

But the day-to-day minutiae was too much for him, so he learnt quickly that delegation to the right staff was the key to running an effective government. He had appointed Genesis to the position of overseeing the missions for all SOLDIER classes and the army, while Angeal was in charge of the training. They were large roles to fill, but he trusted no one more. SOLDIER held a special place in his heart, and putting Genesis and Angeal in charge of it was a no-brainer, and currently they were grooming the pup lieutenant to take on higher responsibilities.

The clever, ever-resourceful Reeve Tuesti had been promoted to a prime ministerial position, overseeing all citizen-related matters with multiple ministries under him, and the Turks were still run by Tseng. Scarlet he had spared, because she was useful. He did not like her; but he did not need to, as long as she continued running the department of weapons development and research successfully. As for the department of scientific research … well, the less said about it, the better. He had torched it to the ground without even the barest hint of regret. The new and reformed department of science and technology now stood in its place.

He had surrounded himself by highly competent people, and he was of the opinion that nowadays, the empire was a well-run, highly-oiled giant set of cogwheels made up of multiple working parts. There was peace, as he had wished for. But some days, he still thought about those days back in the humid jungles of Wutai, with that endless, filthy, sticky mud under his boots, Masamune cutting a way through swathes of swarming Wutaian troops, all braying for his blood. He could still smell that stench, the rotten fragrance of sweat, fear and piss, blood mingled amongst it all. That would always be the stench of death to him. It wasn’t that he missed it, but … once upon a time, that was all that he had known.

His desk now was always flooded with endless deluges of memos from various departments. Tuesti had an especially large portfolio because of his position, and his notes were always meticulous, but seriously lengthy. It sometimes took him hours just to get through a single report. He felt chained to his desk, but he supposed that was the smallest penance for his sins.

The last time he had spent any sort of quality time with his friends was … sadly, he couldn’t even recall when. Their added roster of heavy responsibilities took a huge toll, and the very least he could admit to himself was that he missed them.

He stood in the open doorway of Zack’s apartment, trying not to betray his confusion.

There was no other way to describe it. Zack’s apartment was … enormous.

And beautiful.

And … warm.

Zack met him at the door, his bouncy energy wafting off his body as surely as that ridiculous apple soap fragrance from his shower. His hair was still wet, and improperly dried, and as he talked animatedly, beads of moisture flew off from his hair and splattered on him. Sephiroth tilted his head away, hoping that the swing of his fresh, dry hair would give Zack a hint or two.

‘Hey sir, welcome to Casa de Fair!’

Sephiroth looked at the ceiling with its gorgeously sculpted cornices. ‘Why is your apartment so much larger than mine?’

Zack blinked. ‘It is?’

Genesis piped up from where he was sitting at the crowded dining table with the others. ‘Yup. It is.’

‘I thought I was the general,’ Sephiroth said.

‘THE General,’ Genesis emphasized with a serious face. ‘Supreme General of the Shinra Empire.’ He then spoiled it by sniggering.

‘But … Gen’s apartment is even bigger than ours,’ Zack said, puzzled.

Sephiroth cast his mind back to the last time he had been in Genesis’s apartment in the Tower. It had been before the coup, but surely, it was still the same? ‘No, it isn’t.’

‘Yes, it is. Zack’s right,’ Genesis confirmed. ‘Angeal’s the one who’s still staying in the same apartment. I moved into the apartment that belonged to Rufus Shinra. This apartment belonged to Lazard Deusericus.’

‘What?’ Sephiroth asked incredulously even as he walked up to them with Zack flanking him.

‘Wait. Does that mean you’re not living in the emperor’s quarters?’ Zack asked.

‘Nope,’ Genesis answered for him. ‘It’s been turned into a storage area of sorts, since Sephiroth turned it down five years ago. He’s still in the same apartment that he earned with his promotion to General.’

‘I saw no reason to change living spaces,’ Sephiroth said. ‘They’re the same to me.’

Genesis shook his head, aiming it at Cloud. ‘Nuh-uh. Not at all. Maybe now that you’re hitched, you might want to consider repurposing that apartment. I’m sure Cloud here wouldn’t mind being in nicer digs. I mean, after all, he _is_ a prince. Just saying.’

‘Nibelheim is a small kingdom,’ Cloud explained. ‘The castle is large, but it’s also ancient. We live simply. Sephiroth’s … apartment is lovely enough,’ he said kindly.

Genesis leaned over and patted Cloud’s arm sympathetically, then pointed to the empty seat next to Cloud. ‘Saved you a seat, Sephiroth. Now eat; we’re almost finished with this gorgeous spread.’ He picked up a plump, green grape and bit into it. ‘What a beautiful breakfast, Aerith. So lovely of you to put this on for us.’

‘It’s nothing. We love having guests over. It makes this place feel so alive,’ Aerith said cheerfully. She got up and poured a glass of juice for Sephiroth. ‘Do tuck in, my lord.’

‘Before all the vultures devour what’s left of this spread,’ Zack finished for her. Sephiroth eyed Zack’s loaded plate. Was he referring to himself?

He ate quietly, listening to the four of them chat easily to each other. Social conversations never came easy to him – he was what people usually considered a man of a few words. Genesis called him reticent; Angeal called him quiet. He simply just didn’t see a need to speak unless he had something to say.

With a small start, he realized that his new spouse probably shared that aspect of his personality. He sat there quietly, simply toying with food as he listened to the others. Sephiroth could feel his presence next to him, could smell that hint of magnolia. He was about to turn to him when Zack started talking to Sephiroth about a newly-recruited batch of SOLDIER candidates, and he listened as Zack talked excitedly about experimenting with adding new drills to test their aptitudes.

The longer Zack talked, the more Sephiroth realized that it was more appropriate for him to have spoken to Angeal, who was in charge of SOLDIER training. A quick glance at his friend’s placid expression told him Angeal already knew, in fact. There was a great deal of pride etched on his angular, stern face. He must have encouraged Zack to speak to Sephiroth so the right man could get the credit. Sephiroth didn’t mind. Sometimes it was … pleasant to think about these things again.

Genesis pulled his chair up, and leaned his head in at some point to speak about non-classified missions. He wanted Sephiroth’s opinion about the best people to lead these missions. Sephiroth knew it was a blatant attempt to keep him entertained, keep him here in fact, but he was in a pleasant enough mood to entertain them. An hour passed into the next, and soon, he realized he was simply enjoying the company of those around him.

But all gatherings, even the most fun, had to come to an end. Sephiroth got up to excuse himself. He wanted to get back to his office, give his secretary a list of things of tasks he need done for Monday before she left.

The ever-efficient Cill was still at her desk, presumably waiting for him. Her bag was on the table, all ready to go, and a notepad and pen lay in front of her. She stood when he came in. ‘I thought you weren’t going to come in, my lord.’

‘I was … detained,’ he said, and immediately began rattling off the tasks for her when she followed him into the office. When he was done, she in turn gave him a quick run-down of all the meetings and appointments he had. He had his monthly meeting with Tuesti on Tuesday, which usually took up the good part of a workday, and he was to open a new public library down in Sector 6 on Wednesday, before presiding over an award ceremony honoring volunteers the day after. He didn’t usually do these events, but … apparently it was part of a massive public relations move linked to his temporary boost in popularity from his wedding.

‘Would you be wanting me to bring forward your honeymoon trip to the Costa Del Sol for next weekend onwards?’ Cill asked.

Sephiroth looked up. ‘What did you say?’

Cill looked at him patiently. ‘You told me to postpone the honeymoon trip because of those upcoming events, my lord. You did it about a month ago, and said you will let me know when to reschedule it for. Do you have a date in mind yet?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth said.

Cill waited.

Sephiroth stared at her.

Cill relented, scribbling down a few notes. ‘I’ll look into your schedule and see if I can fit it in. Also, the apartment I’ve arranged for the prince consort is ready.’ She pointed at a red felt pouch on his table. ‘The keycards to the apartment are in there. I’ve also arranged for his belongings to be moved in there already. It’s ready for him anytime.’

‘Thank you. That will be all, Cill.’

She closed the notebook and left for the weekend. Sephiroth sighed, eyed the stack of reports waiting for him. He unsheathed Masamune and hung it up, as he usually did. It was an unbreakable habit by now, keeping her unsheathed by his side. He had been a soldier too long to ever leave his guard down.

He worked until he sensed the light change behind him. The sun had touched the horizon, flooding the sky with tinges of pink and orange. He watched the fiery ball descend into the depths, and darkness spread across the land. 

He tidied up his desk, satisfied that he got quite a bit of work done. Masamune was sheathed, and he made his way back up to his own apartment. He was almost looking forward to it.

As limited as their interactions were today, Sephiroth saw a different side of Cloud. Whenever they were in private, there was always an element of anger involved, like he was priming for a fight. But around other people, he was calm and polite, almost pleasant, even.

He knew next to nothing about his new spouse. He supposed that was partially his fault, of course. But there was just something about his new spouse that needled him. The defiance in those eyes …

Unfortunately, that was the sight that greeted him when he stepped in.

Cloud was sitting at the dining table, facing the entrance when Sephiroth came in. His posture was relaxed, but he couldn’t fool Sephiroth. Those eyes said everything. He didn’t waste time with any of the niceties. ‘Where is my trousseau?’

Sephiroth walked up to him calmly, placed Masamune on the table. He took out the red pouch from his pocket, and placed it on the table. ‘These keycards are for your new apartment down the hall. We can still share a bed, of course, but I am of the opinion that we should have our individual living spaces.’

Cloud didn’t say anything, merely breathed quietly as he considered what Sephiroth was saying.

‘I’ve had the attendants set up your space and I believe they moved your chest into the apartment earlier in the day, when we were out. I should have informed you sooner.’

Cloud’s fingers toyed with the felt pouch. He opened it, palmed the keycards. He fanned them in his hand. Flicked it back and placed it neatly back into the pouch. Rested his hand on the table next to the pouch.

‘We’ve only been married a week, and already you’re getting rid of me,’ he said.

The fact that Cloud was deceptively calm alarmed him.

‘You don’t agree,’ Sephiroth said.

‘No, I don’t,’ Cloud answered. Then he stood slowly.

Sephiroth straightened.

Cloud’s fingers danced over to the sheathed Masamune, and then he laid his hand over the ornate, carved metal sheath. Sephiroth stiffened.

Those fingers tightened over the sheath.

‘Unhand my sword,’ Sephiroth commanded.

‘No.’

Sephiroth was just opening his mouth when Cloud picked up Masamune in one hand, then without warning, hurled the sword, sheath and all.

Sephiroth moved fast to intercept the flying sword with his left hand. Once he felt his fingers close over it, he used his right to slam his open hand into Cloud’s chest, pushing his forcefully backwards until his back slammed against the wall, and pinned him there until he could determine whether his spouse was a threat.

‘You treat your precious katana better than you treat a person,’ Cloud sneered, bitterness in his tone.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked. He brought up the sheathed Masamune up against Cloud’s chest in a horizontal position, keeping him there as an extra safeguard. He was afraid he was going to crush Cloud’s chest with his hand. That was how angry he was. He never allowed anyone to touch his katana. ‘What were you trying to even do?’

If he thought he couldn’t be surprised for a second time that night, he was wrong. Cloud put both of his hands on the sheath, and pushed back with all his strength, and all his might. He found himself being pushed away, which in itself was a surprise. No one pushed him back, ever. There was a good reason why he didn’t need attendants or guards, or that he was the general of the Shinra Empire. Nobody could make him move unless he wanted to. Nobody bested him in a physical fight – no one could even come close to it.

But this time, he had taken two full steps back because Cloud had pushed him back. That shocked him.

He thought that this was a spoiled, pampered prince. But there was something else about him … something infuriating, something extraordinary …

But for now, Sephiroth was not interested in finding out what. He was pissed off, and he very rarely reached that point. He found anger unproductive and unnecessary, but at the end of the day, he was still human. He straightened up.

‘Get the keycards and go before you really get hurt, Cloud.’

‘No,’ Cloud spat out.

Nobody said no to him. Nobody. ‘How dare you,’ Sephiroth said.

‘I dare,’ Cloud snarled. ‘Who do you think you are to order me around?’

Sephiroth drew himself up to his full height. ‘I am General Sephiroth of the Shinra Empire. You will either do as I say, or I will throw you in there myself. Either way, I want you out of my sight!’

‘You think you’re better than me, Sephiroth?’ Cloud asked. ‘You’re not. We’re equals, my lord, and that’s something you’ll learn soon, I hope.’ He shook his head, those eyes flashing angrily. ‘No. I take it back. We’re not equals. In fact, I’m your superior - in every way possible!’ He was furious enough to launch himself at Sephiroth, who held up the sword with a loose grip to knock him back, but not hurt him. But Cloud came at him again, slapped the sword out of his hands.

Masamune clattered to the ground, and the both of them were breathing hard, anger thick in the air. 

This was his spouse, Sephiroth had to remind himself. He could not simply pick up his katana and run him through with it in order to stop him.

Cloud rushed him, slammed him against the wall. Their faces were so close to each other that he could feel Cloud’s hot breath on him, those eyes incandescent with rage.

‘Tell me,’ Sephiroth said. ‘How are you superior to me? Because you are born royalty?’ he sneered. 

‘Not just that. I am a better person than you, Sephiroth, in every way possible that you can think of. Kinder. More patient. More tolerant of your bullshit!’ Cloud yelled. ‘I left my home for this. For you. You summoned me across the seas to be your consort. Instead, every night I have to beg you to fuck me. You make me feel like a common whore, you bastard! And you have the fucking nerve to send me away after a week?’

Sephiroth fisted his hands in Cloud’s shirt, physically lifted him and pushed him all the way back to the wall. ‘What the hell did you expect, you spoiled prince? Did you want me to woo you? Shower you with affection? I already warned you on the first night itself. Do not expect to earn my heart! There is no place for you there.’

Cloud shoved him back. ‘You’re a cruel son of a bitch, Sephiroth. You won’t even give this marriage a chance, and your disrespect of me is astounding! I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of you.’ He stared up at Sephiroth, unshed tears glistening effulgently in those beautiful eyes.

An eternity passed in that moment, and Sephiroth wanted to close his own eyes before he got sucked into that whirling vortex of the bluest sky.

He leaned down, pressed his mouth against those lips that spat such hateful words. He wanted to know if he would be able to feel that insane heat, the same that emanated from that tightly-wound, furious little body of Cloud’s. He felt a surge of lust even as his angry spouse reciprocated, as Sephiroth knew he would.

He felt Cloud’s hands tugging impatiently at his hair, and it irritated him enough that he forcefully turned Cloud to face the wall, one hand on his back pressing him against the wall, the other yanking down his pants, exposing that round, tight ass for his taking.

Sephiroth pulled his cock out of his own pants, and slapped his erection against the fold between those tight buttocks.

‘Hurry up, you son of a bitch,’ Cloud snarled.

He wasted no time entertaining that little bastard’s request, pushing himself roughly into that tight passage, eliciting a pained and aroused cry from Cloud, and yet he shoved himself away from the wall, impaling himself deeper until Sephiroth’s full length was buried to the hilt.

‘Move, damnit!’ Cloud gasped harshly, panting with pain.

He didn’t need another invitation to punish Cloud for his earlier transgressions. He pounded that hole hard, and without mercy. He figured out that if he changed the angle slightly, those aroused moans coming from Cloud would turn into involuntary cries of pleasure, and he thrusted away until there was nothing but those cries filling the night air. Sephiroth took his pleasure until there was nothing left.

With a final, agonized shout, Cloud’s knees gave out, but Sephiroth had him pinned to the wall, and he could barely move with those arms imprisoning him. He took and took until he exploded into a breathless orgasm inside of Cloud. He wasn’t even sure who was supporting who anymore, and he pulled out, hearing that indecent sound of his flaccid penis slipping out of that tight, wet warmth. Thick fluid ran down Cloud’s inner thigh, and with the separation they both collapsed into a heap on the floor.

An eternity later, Sephiroth sat up, and looked over at Cloud, who looked limp with exhaustion. All the fury seemed to have leaked out of him, like a deflated balloon. Perhaps all the rage had been fucked out of him. Sephiroth was glad for that, because their argument was devolving into a physical fight. He wondered, how could someone who looked like that - skinny, unassuming - have such a strength in that body?

‘Did you ever learn how to fight?’ Sephiroth asked.

Cloud stirred, but kept his eyes closed. ‘Of course. I _am_ the second prince of Nibelheim, remember? Of course I’ve had some military training. Nibelheim is a small kingdom and we lack a large army, or weapons to defend ourselves, so we have a compulsory conscription service program. I did it for two years.’

‘And your weapon of choice?’

‘We use guns in the army, but I’ve had some private lessons with a broad sword.’

‘A broad sword?’ Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. ‘Let’s see how good you are. Tomorrow morning.’

Cloud opened his eyes. ‘Are you inviting me to spar with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m not good like Zack. In fact, nowhere near as good.’

‘Then I’m sure you can learn something,’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud stared at him. ‘All right,’ he said grudgingly. ‘But why are you doing this?’

Sephiroth shrugged. ‘It’s always good for you to know how to defend yourself, like you said. You have a lot of raw power, and I think you could make a good swordsman if you pin down your techniques first.’

‘Are you … are you trying to be nice? To me?’ Cloud asked, incredulity on his face.

Maybe he was. Maybe he had been too hasty in sending him away, because ultimately that had been his intention, wasn’t it? He just hadn’t expected Cloud to fight back in the way he did. He was a prince, after all. He was probably unused to taking instructions, or even being treated like how Sephiroth was treating him.

Maybe he had been … unfair.

Instead of replying, he slid his hands underneath Cloud’s body, lifted him up. He weighed nothing. ‘Come on, let’s clean up and head to bed. I’ll teach you how to spar tomorrow.’

Cloud responded by curling his linked arms around Sephiroth’s neck, and resting that spiky head against his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

‘Wake up.’

Cloud groaned and peeled his heavy eyes open. It was still dark. ‘It’s still dark,’ he mumbled.

‘It’s the best time for a spar.’

Cloud moaned into his pillow. For a moment he drifted off, his loopy, sleep-drenched mind fantasizing about a husband who would gently cuddle his spouse and whisper sweet nothings in his ear to wake him up, or slide a tray of breakfast and allow the warm delicious smells to rouse him from his sleep. Or gently slip his dick inside him, waking him and his body up.

But no. This one told him to wake up, his voice cool and indifferent. While it was still dark. For exercise that had nothing to do with sex.

He sat up sluggishly, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, blearily focusing on the figure standing in front of him, already dressed in a shirt that looked sculpted to his torso and loose black pants that hugged the muscles on his thighs. That loose silver hair shone like a beacon in the darkened room. And that butcher’s knife … in his hand, as usual.

For a second he felt terrible. He knew what Masamune meant to Sephiroth, Genesis had already warned him about it. Yet he had picked it up and tried to fling it across the room. Granted, he hadn’t succeeded, because that bastard he married seemed to have superhuman reflexes and had caught it in time. But that had been an act of impulsive anger – he knew it meant something to him.

Cloud had been so fucking pissed that his trousseau had been removed from the apartment. That had been the only item in the entire apartment that belonged to him. Represented him, even. And he felt like he had been tossed out on the street.

He blinked in the dark and stretched, and caught sight of his trousseau, back at the foot of the bed. He looked at Sephiroth, who said nothing and acknowledged even less.

It wasn’t wrong of him to think it was an apology of sorts, right?

Maybe he wasn’t that bad. Maybe they just needed time to get to know each other.

Cloud smiled to himself, then dragged himself off the bed and to the bathroom to get ready.

The training room was on the 49th floor, the very same one that he had visited with Aerith and Sephiroth’s two pals yesterday. Aerith had invited him, saying that she wanted to watch Zack spar with the great Sephiroth, and Cloud thought it hadn’t been such a bad idea, despite his ongoing misgivings about the man.

But as terribly flawed as he was as a husband, he had apparently none as a swordsman. He clearly had full mastery over his sword, able to use it with so much fluidity and ease that Cloud had been impressed despite himself. He moved with an odd, hypnotic sort of balletic grace, his face never once suggesting tension. In fact, he looked like he was downright enjoying himself.

Zack had been brilliant, in fact, with a tireless, dogged determination to fight Sephiroth until the bitter end. And yet, Sephiroth looked like he barely broke a sweat. He parried the furious incoming strikes like he was batting away butterflies, and when his eyes focused in with intensity, that was when he went on the attack. Despite Zack putting up a fight, he ended up losing his sword more than once.

He was a patient teacher, and although Cloud couldn’t hear the words he could see Sephiroth instructing Zack on exactly where he needed to improve. They both had an incredible amount of stamina, and they went at it for so long that eventually Genesis and Angeal had wandered down to join them. They started to discuss amongst themselves the prospect of breakfast together, but Cloud hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from Sephiroth.

He had been entrancing, the epitome of grace as he danced around parrying strikes with that slim sword of his leading the way.

Inside the training room, Sephiroth turned on the computer simulation, and Cloud watched as the landscape changed from a cemented, insulated blank room into a field of grass that stretched out as far as the eye could see. It was kind of nice and peaceful here, he thought. It wasn’t real, but he could have sworn he could feel and hear the grass crunch under his feet.

Sephiroth had managed to get his hand on a broadsword. It felt like a good weight in his hand, well-balanced and well-made. The steel was shiny, its edges were nice and sharp. It felt good having a sword in his hands again. He swung it a few times experimentally as Sephiroth did his warm-ups, which apparently included sprinting around the room wat a rather alarming speed. If that was how fast he could go while warming up … well, Cloud wouldn’t stand a chance.

As second prince of Nibelheim, he had received weapons training. In fact, he had been appointed a rank of commander of the Nibelheim infantry, albeit an honorary one. He enjoyed sparring every now and then with his brother when he had the time, and his tutor had called him a skilled beginner with good instincts. He was a little excited about the possibility that being able to take it up again in Midgar, although he wondered if this might be a one-off, especially if Sephiroth ended up too appalled by his amateur status.

But to his credit, Sephiroth seemed patient. He stood in front of Cloud, Masamune pointing downwards by his side, facing away from his body, his stance relaxed and limber. ‘Come at me when you’re ready.’

Cloud approached him carefully, letting the broadsword lead the way. He swung a little too cautiously, but when he felt the edge of the blade clanging against Sephiroth’s, the resistance and vibrations that ran up his hand felt electrifying. Cloud saw Masamune every day, but never with this intimacy. It was so close to his face that he realized with a start that the blade was massive and wickedly sharp.

But even as he pushed back and Sephiroth slashed downwards, he could tell that Sephiroth was pulling his blow. This man was too skilled to let even an amateur like Cloud hurt himself or Sephiroth, and that made him feel like he could loosen his inhibitions and go for it.

And he did. He went hell for leather, letting his instincts guide him and he advanced, letting the blade cut through the air in multiple directions. Sephiroth parried them easily, of course, looking like he was merely swatting patiently. But Cloud could see the small smirk on his lips, those strange eyes lit up in pleasure. When Cloud exhausted his flurry of strikes, Sephiroth changed up the game, and started forcing him back. That was when Cloud really had to concentrate. Sephiroth’s strokes may been done at half-speed and half-strength, but he was swift and sure, and Cloud found that he really had to rely on his instincts and block every swing that came his way.

The end of the first spar had Sephiroth pushing him back until he had to use his entire body weight and both hands to resist against that incoming push, with the broadsword as his shield. Sephiroth leapt back, letting Cloud’s momentum work against himself, and as he toppled off balance, the broadsword flicked out of his hands by a lifted swing from Masamune.

He panted hard, even as Sephiroth walked over to pick up his sword. ‘Very good,’ he said, and Cloud could have sworn there was a lilt of pride and surprise in that voice. ‘You’ve sparred before, and it shows. How long did you have lessons for?’

‘About four years. Then I sparred on and off, but less often than I would have liked.’ Cloud shrugged, loving the hot sweat that poured off him like a cleansing dew. Sephiroth handed him a bottle, and Cloud drank half of it in a single gulp. His throat was parched, and his muscles were singing from the strain.

Sephiroth lifted the bottle to his mouth, tilted his head. As he swallowed, Cloud watched the Adam’s apple bob in in his throat, that long line of the elegant arch of his neck. Then Sephiroth righted his head again, and caught him looking.

Cloud looked away, feeling his cheeks flush. His reactions were normal. Sephiroth was a good-looking man, and Cloud was simply impressed with the amount of skill he had demonstrated with a sword. That was a turn-on for him, nothing wrong with that. Sephiroth’s swordsmanship reminded him of how he was in bed – a powerful, brutally skilled lover.

He stood up. ‘Again.’

Sephiroth’s eyes glinted, clearly pleased.

Cloud channeled his embarrassment into concentration, striking out at Sephiroth with the broadsword. When the second spar ended with him falling to his knees, the sword flung out of his hands yet again, Sephiroth instructed him to keep his grip a little looser. His over-gripping was forcing too much tension into the strokes, limiting its range. Cloud tried to pay attention to what he was doing, and it took a while before he slowly got the hang of it.

The third, fourth and five spars ended with the broadsword flying out of his hands in multiple ways, and he realized that he was getting really angry. Sephiroth disarmed him way too easily, and he didn’t like it. But their skill levels were far too disparate, and he felt at once Sephiroth was toying with him and enjoying himself too much. He let out a low growl, then got up to his feet. ‘Again,’ he barked out, this time not bothering to conceal the irritation in his voice.

He spun and slashed, whirled and deflected, retreated and stumbled forward, only for it to end with Sephiroth sticking the sharp end of Masamune against the underside of his ribs, his broadsword having flown away into the distance.

He had pushed himself so hard that his legs simply collapsed under him, petulantly refusing to support his weight any longer. His arms felt like they were burning, close to falling off completely. His mind no longer had the mental strength to demand another lift of his sword, and it was all he could do to remain seated upright.

Sephiroth brought him his bottle of water, and held it to his lips.

He would rather his arm fall off than let Sephiroth feed him water. Cloud gritted his teeth, lifted his painfully sore arm to grab the bottle.

Sephiroth took a seat next to him, and Cloud could feel the heat coming off of him in waves. He could smell that scent of clean sweat off the man’s skin, that slick moisture that danced across the surface of his bare arms. His black shirt was drenched entirely, and Cloud knew that he looked the same, if not worse.

And yet, he couldn’t tear his eyes off those taut, firm muscles, glistening with sweat. This time, Sephiroth turned and met his stare.

And he moved ever so closer, and Cloud felt like a piece of metal, being helplessly drawn to a powerful magnet. He closed the distance between the both of them, and the kiss that began quickly escalated into a mad tumble onto the hard ground as Cloud jumped him, their bodies colliding. There was no strength left in his body, and he left it to Sephiroth to support the both of them.

He surfaced for air, feeling his pupils contract, messing with his vision. He had to blink a couple of times to clear it, and he realized at that point in time he wanted nothing more than the man that was right there with him.

‘Are we done with the spar?’ Cloud asked urgently, his lips too busy seeking the heat from Sephiroth’s mouth.

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth said, and then hoisted the both of them up. He lowered Cloud gently to the ground, and waited until he felt the trembling in his legs settle. Damned if he would let Sephiroth carry him. He brisk walked to the exit even as Sephiroth shut down the room.

He was so focused on making a beeline for the elevators that when he heard the teasing voice, he had to look around for the source of it. ‘So that’s what they call … _sword play_ ,’ Genesis said, laughed. Angeal only sighed.

‘Hello,’ Cloud said, and it came out more like a surprised squeak than anything else.

Sephiroth’s brows knit together. ‘Go away, Genesis.’

‘How rude!’ Genesis said, a teasing smile hovering around his lips. ‘I only came here because I thought you might be up for a spar,’ he said.

‘I already had one. With Cloud.’ Sephiroth said, almost unnecessarily.

‘I saw,’ Genesis said, then winked at Cloud. ‘Is that what we’re calling it these days?’ He said, quite amused.

‘Shut up, Gen,’ Angeal said.

‘Where are you gentlemen going? You look like you’re rather in a hurry,’ Genesis continued, walking with them to the elevator banks. Angeal shook his head in exasperation.

To Cloud’s relief, one of the elevator doors opened, and he hopped in, turning away so he could conceal the half-tent in his pants. He was pretty sure no one saw, but still … how embarrassing. Sephiroth stepped in behind him, faced the front. Genesis tried to follow as well, but Sephiroth lifted Masamune, physically blocked him, his free hand jabbing at the close button.

Sephiroth stared at him. ‘Go away. You’re being a nuisance.’

The elevator doors closed on Genesis’s highly amused laughter.

They didn’t touch one another in the elevator, despite the closeness of their bodies and the apparent itch in his hands. It was just as well, because Cloud was afraid if he managed to lay a hand on Sephiroth, he could not be stopped.

They made it quite calmly to the apartment, and the door managed to close behind them when Sephiroth turned to him, swung out an arm quickly and crushed him into a violent embrace. Their lips were fused together, and Cloud wrapped his legs around Sephiroth’s waist. ‘Hurry, hurry,’ he whispered against that insistent mouth, plundering him for all he was worth.

They struggled into the bedroom, where Cloud’s fingers were practically pressing deep indents into Sephiroth’s bare back, having ripped the shirt off his body. Dimly in the back of his mind he remembered that he hadn’t had the time to prep himself, so he kneed Sephiroth in the thigh to stop him from shoving his cock right into him.

‘The bottle in the bedside drawer,’ Cloud mumbled hoarsely, feeling Sephiroth’s long, slender fingers wrap against his own cock. He shuddered at the friction when Sephiroth broke contact, poured a handful of lubricant liquid on his ass. When the cool liquid hit his bare skin, it forced a hiss out of him, immediately replaced by a groan when those fingers penetrated him deep inside, pulling long, hungry strokes.

Cloud closed his eyes, leaned back on against the cool sheets of the bed, and arched his back in an attempt to suck those fingers deeper inside. His own hand found purchase on Sephiroth’s fully erect cock, and he closed his fingers around it, and began to move.

Deep inside of him, those clever fingers stretched him open, and all Cloud could do was lean into those sensations, that shallow pleasure that drew him in deeper. When Sephiroth replaced his fingers with that ridiculous length of steel iron that he called a cock, Cloud breathed in hard to get used to the invasion. It had been a week, but each penetration still took some adjustment.

Sephiroth began moving almost immediately, and Cloud could barely give the greedy bastard a dirty look before Sephiroth closed the gap between them. He also had a week of adjustment, and it looked like he was a quick learner, knowing instinctively which angle to hit the prostate until Cloud was a slack, screaming mess of sensation and pleasure.

His ankles were up in the air, his hands were digging into the sheets under him, trying to find purchase to anchor himself against that momentum. His husband moved deep inside of him, his hips pistoning against his uplifted ass, thrusting hard and quick until all Cloud could hear was his own prurient moans against that filthy assault.

Their bodies were covered in sweat, and the heat that emanated off the both of them was enough to burn his inhibitions to the ground. He felt wet and slick, and the burst of heat deep in his belly as Sephiroth shuddered over him brought a jolt through his already highly-strung nerves. All he could see was that curtain of silver hair that surrounded him, tickling his already over-sensitized skin. He let his own desires guide him to completion, and that orgasm that burst forth both blinded and exhausted him.

It felt like an eternity before he could move, and he barely did more than roll to his side as he felt Sephiroth’s weight shift off the bed. Cloud kept his eyes firmly closed, never caring if his lower half was a complete mess and that he ought to clean up at least. But even as he felt the warmth of wet towel pressed against his thighs, he simply slipped away into a dreamless slumber.

By the time he awoke it was lunch time. Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen, but that was no surprise to him. The man was a workaholic, and whenever he wasn’t at home, Cloud surmised he was at his office. He understood. It was no easy feat to run an empire, and he had helped his brother with it enough to know that. His brother had ascended the throne about three years prior, after their father had died of natural causes. It had been utter chaos at first, but as time went by, Aldrich had found his feet. He’d probably took on too much anyway, with his new portfolios and new responsibilities. But he had also gotten married, and Cloud expected any day now to hear the good news that he would become an uncle when his sister-in-law became pregnant.

He showered and dressed, swallowed the late lunch that had been left out for him. Then even as the trolley was being cleared, there was a knock at the door. He opened it to see another familiar face. ‘Jessie,’ he greeted her with a small smile. He hadn’t seen her since before the wedding.

When he had arrived in Midgar, she had introduced herself as his personal assistant, a secretary of sorts. She was in charge of his work schedule when he was ready to take up one, and by extension, she was instrumental to his acclimatization in Midgar City. She promised to leave him alone for the first week after his wedding, insisting on the privileges of a newlywed man. And as promised, now she stood on the doorstep, with her jaunty ponytail, a folder in her arm, a professional smile on her face.

‘Ready to get to work?’ She beamed at him.

They sat down, and he offered her the herbal tea that she requested. ‘Congratulations on the wedding, my lord.’

‘Call me Cloud,’ he said. Everyone in Nibelheim, including his own personal staff, did. Titles were for stuffy, stiff ceremonies. ‘But yes, thank you very much.’

‘How’s newlywed life treating you?’

He pasted the smile on his face. ‘Lovely, thank you.’ He stopped short of saying more, because he knew his personal life was no one’s business but his own. ‘I’m ready to jump into work, though.’

‘Well, let’s ease you into it,’ she said, and opened up her folder, which turned out to be a massive diary. She had penciled in several events into the next day onwards, and left the weekend clear. ‘Two events,’ she said. ‘Nothing too strenuous, just basically opening the event or giving a speech, if that’s what you’re comfortable doing. Lots of waving, posing for pictures, meeting the people and such.’

He listened as she described the events, and the longer he listened the more he felt confident. This was his bread and butter, what he had been doing for the past ten years as a representative of the king. A large part of the charity work required him to be a front for the monarchy – looking good and behaving pleasantly, if neutrally, never saying or doing anything provocative. The people loved it, and for Cloud it was second nature to him by now.

‘Until you are ready to choose your own patronages, I’m scheduling your events for you. You may take as long as you like until you find your wheelhouse, your interests. Let me know when you’ve decided. I see that you already have a few ideas,’ she said. ‘But there’s no hurry. Have you seen much of Midgar yet, Cloud?’

‘Not as much as I’d like to,’ Cloud answered. He hadn’t had a chance at all. With Shinra Tower though, he seemed to be quite familiar with.

‘I would suggest that you venture out a little more to see the sights, take in the city at your own pace and form your opinions on the vibe of the city. I know it’s quite different to your Nibelheim, but I assure you, there’s plenty to see if you only give it a chance.’

‘You’re right,’ Cloud said. Better to venture out and do something than stay cooped in that apartment all day, waiting for his bloody husband to come home.

‘I can arrange for escorts to take you around the city,’ Jessie offered. ‘There has been some officials who’ve been chafing at the bit to give you tours around their sectors, so feel free to take them up. Or,’ she said slowly. ‘You might also want to consider visiting the city with the general. Having the both of you being seen in the city would add to the popularity boost with the polls that you two are currently enjoying.’

‘Mmm,’ Cloud said, noncommittally. ‘I don’t mind that, and it’s something I’ll discuss with him. For now though, would I be able to head out this afternoon? Incognito, preferably, at this point.’

‘Of course,’ Jessie answered. ‘Would you give me a bit of time to arrange your security team? Midgar is definitely safe, but our policies dictate that we need to double-up on security whenever you venture out of the Tower. They’re discreet, I promise you.’

‘That’s fine,’ Cloud said. He was getting excited – finally visiting the famed Midgar City! He had seen some of it before his wedding, but more often than not had been bogged down by the administrative tasks and concerns of settling into his new surroundings and the emotional stress of saying goodbye to all the people he knew.

He could get away for a good amount of time before he should really be back by evening. Despite all his misgivings, it was a habit by now to wait for his spouse to come home, because that was usually the only time they saw each other. Sephiroth usually worked until eight or nine in the evening at least, and that gave Cloud a great deal of free time, which he now intended to put to good use.

Even as Jessie returned to her office to make arrangements, he got dressed. Casual enough to be comfortable, but smart enough to be presentable in case he was recognized by the citizens. He wore a sweater over pants, slipped his feet into his favorite boots.

He received a text message to go down to the ground floor of the Tower. When he got there, there was a hush cast over the silent lobby, despite the large amount of people milling around. At first he thought they might have been an incident, but he soon saw the source of the hushed whispers.

His spouse stood in the middle of the lobby, alone. Waiting. At least, it looked like he was waiting. He was standing so still he was almost like a statue. Even his long silvery hair didn’t move an inch, that was how motionless he was. His katana was sheathed, roped into the belt of his black military coat, his white epaulettes only serving to highlight the broadness of his shoulders. His arms were crossed, and his stern, cold face looked to be deep in thought.

Even Cloud cast him a wide berth as he circled around and approached him from the front. He knew better than anyone that it was dangerous as well as fruitless to sneak up from behind, especially after the spar they had this morning. He knew now that Sephiroth was a monster with that barbarian knife of his.

‘My lord?’ Cloud hesitantly asked.

Sephiroth’s green eyes shifted to him, blinked. ‘There you are. Let’s go.’

‘Er … go where?’ he said, stepping a little closer to his husband.

‘I thought you were going on a tour of Midgar City?’ Sephiroth asked.

‘Yes …’ Cloud said. ‘But I was going alone. And … you aren’t telepathic, are you? How did you know anyway?’

A man in a plainclothes came up to them. ‘My lords, we are ready to head out, whenever you are.’

Sephiroth skewered him with a glance. ‘Make sure I don’t see or sense any of you. Otherwise, you’ll find your position terminated before we even get back to the Tower.’

Cloud opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again.

Sephiroth put down his arms, and his long legs started walking. He gave Cloud a look that impatiently conveyed, ‘come along now’, and his own legs began moving obediently. They walked out of the lobby, and into the warm afternoon sun.

Cloud hummed to himself before he turned to Sephiroth with some barely concealed impatience. He was out in public now, he had to remind himself. So he straightened up, put an absent and inoffensive smile on his face. ‘Sorry, would you care to explain why you’re here with me? Not that it isn’t welcome, of course, but I would like to clear up my own confusion.’

Sephiroth ignored the pleasantly spoken sarcasm. ‘I heard that you were interested in exploring Midgar City, so I decided that there was no reason why I couldn’t join you.’

‘So my secretary told you that I was going out?’ Cloud asked incredulously. It sounded kind of … indiscreet of Jessie, which was not like her at all.

‘No, I didn’t say that,’ Sephiroth said. He stopped in front of the black, armored car waiting in front of them. He opened the door, gestured to Cloud. ‘Go on, you first.’

Cloud smiled and lifted his arm to the small crowd of citizens who were standing behind a security blockade, who were waving happily and jumping up and down to see them. He then popped his head down, and slid his butt across the buttery leather cushions. He waited until Sephiroth slid down, and the door was closed behind him to speak again.

‘And …?’ he prompted.

Sephiroth sighed irritatedly, his green eyes conveying a sort of embarrassed snappishness. ‘It wasn’t Jessie. It was Genesis. Apparently he managed to wheedle the information while your secretary was setting up a security convoy for you. He told me … he suggested to me that I should perhaps take over the tour and go with you. Because it’s good for the opinion polls.’

‘Right,’ Cloud said.

‘And then he locked me out of my own office,’ Sephiroth said, snarling a little at that thought.

‘Don’t kill him,’ Cloud said, turning away so Sephiroth could not see the amused smile on his face.

‘I’ll take your request under consideration,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I’m still undecided.’

‘He means well,’ Cloud said. ‘And besides, who better to show me around Midgar City than my new husband?’

Sephiroth stared at him, as if his interrogative gaze could suss out whether Cloud was being sarcastic or not. After a moment of Cloud returning the stare with his own blank, open one, Sephiroth turned away and settled into the car seat. ‘Very well.’

They arrived at the first stop, which was an overlook on a massive suspension bridge. Despite the constant pollution generated by the mako reactors, the sky was clear and the air was sweet. The warm breeze brushed against his hair as they stood on the overlook, looking at the waters below.

‘This is the Midgar Bridge,’ Sephiroth said. Cloud was listening for more, but was stunned to realize that Sephiroth had finished.

‘It’s beautiful out here,’ Cloud said, looking down at the churning waters under the bridge. The bridge was a massive structure that accommodated a six-lane highway, bridging the areas of Shinra Tower and the city center.

Sephiroth only grunted.

With some bafflement, they got back into the car, and that took them to a bustling, busy open-air marketplace. The low walls were painted in colourful shades of red and pinks and oranges. When they got out, Sephiroth only crossed his arms and said, ‘This is the Midgar City Market.’

Cloud lifted his head, and he could see the massive metal sign on the top of the structure, which read, ‘Midgar City Market’. He could smell the fresh produce here, the endless noise of a place that never stopped trading. Very quickly, they were soon spotted, and Cloud had no doubt that it was because the tall, silver-haired demon next to him.

‘You’ve never been here, have you?’ Cloud asked.

Sephiroth did not deign to answer his question, but the answer was obvious.

Soon, Cloud found himself waving genially at the roaring crowds, so pleased that royalty was visiting them. There went his chance of going incognito, he thought. But this was not altogether unpleasant. He could feel Sephiroth standing stiffly next to him, his unease pouring off him in waves as a cologne would. His mild scowl and impenetrable persona was enough to keep the crowds away from them, and give them a wide berth. So Cloud tucked his arm into Sephiroth’s, and guided him forward, using his free hand to wave, his smile wide and relaxed on his face.

Their next stop was a park, a leafy public garden. And as Sephiroth very helpfully informed him, this was the Midgar Central Gardens. They followed the meandering path for a while, ignoring the flashes of cameras and the gasps of the adoring public when they realized who was walking amongst them. They stopped in front of a giant, bronzed statue. Cloud and Sephiroth both looked up at it.

‘What the hell,’ Sephiroth said, with not a little bit of annoyance and dismay in his voice.

It was an eight-foot tall bronze cast of a man, face stiff and stern, frozen bronze hair not unlike those long silvery strands on his husband’s hair. It was in fully military dress, possibly the same one he had worn when he had gotten married. In his left hand was his favored katana, even the sheath in his other hand a clear likeness with the original. Its stance was relaxed, on the verge of stepping forward for a fight. It was all very flattering and bizarre all at once.

‘What the hell is this?’ Sephiroth hissed again, looking up at a statue of himself.

Cloud shrugged. He turned the knife a little. ‘How would I know? Kind of nice though.’ He said noncommittally. The placard below named him and had a short anecdote about the hero of the Wutai War. He wondered if the statue had been raised before or after he had become emperor. Had they been honoring a general or a usurper?

Their next stop was the slums of inner Midgar City. Cloud knew a little about the history of his place. It was once below ground, natural sunlight obstructed by a massive metal plate, and it was basically the criminal underbelly of the city. But after it had been cleared out, the area had been brought back to life by clubs and bars, restaurants and shopping districts, a sector of the city that now never slept had allowed the nightlife to thrive.

When they had stepped foot into the slums, the general had said, ‘This is the Midgar Slums.’ And then nothing else. Nothing.

What the hell? Not only was his new homeland quite unimaginative and uncreative with naming landmarks, his tour guide straight-out _sucked_. The tour was bland, and he wasn’t having as much fun as he would have liked, and yet he couldn’t deny that frisson of lazy pleasure with his spouse by his side.

This morning’s spar and last night’s fight had changed something infinitesimal between them; he just wasn’t sure what it was yet. But he was content even as they strolled aimlessly in the slums. It was evening now, and the place was slowly beginning to come to life as dozens of people began to pour in from above the plate, hungry and eager to find an early dinner.

Cloud was about to suggest they head back to the Tower – the mediocre tour had taken up a surprising amount of time – so they could retire to their apartment when he spotted a chalkboard in front of one of the restaurants up ahead.

The restaurant looked rustic, a little old, a hole in the wall that was still deserted at this point, before the real dinner rush could begin. But it could have been a table with just two chairs in the middle of the square, and he would still have been excited, because the specials that were written on the chalkboard read:

_Today’s specials_

_Rainbow trout cooked in lemon-ginger sauce_

_Roasted honeyed red rice_

_NIbelheim spiced meat stew_

Cloud was inordinately excited for something that was so pedestrian back in Nibelheim. It was nothing special, really, only meat stewed down in a spicy broth that was eaten with potatoes and carrots. Plain fare, as they called it back home. But he had missed home more than he thought he would, after being away for a month and a little bit, which meant that even the simplest fare that represented home had become quite special.

He forgot that he still had his arm in Sephiroth’s, and ended up dragging halfway across the square to the front of the restaurant, his actions so sudden and so unexplained that Sephiroth had the fingers on his free hand resting alertly on his blade.

‘Sorry,’ Cloud said. ‘But look! Nibelheim stew! Can we …?’ He gestured to the restaurant, then straightened with some forgotten dignity. ‘I would like to have dinner here.’

Sephiroth blinked in surprise. ‘All right,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I suppose we could risk food poisoning eating in a foreign establishment if it pleases you so much.’ At first he thought Sephiroth was making fun of him, but he realized he wasn’t.

‘You always eat in the Tower, don’t you?’ Cloud asked.

‘Yes. On the rare occurrence I don’t, it’s not always in these sorts of establishments,’ Sephiroth said. He pushed open the door of the restaurant warily, and they stepped in together.

The owner of the restaurant had been lounging lazily across the counter said, ‘Good evening, welcome to The Wall Market-AHHH!’ He did a comical double-take and practically fell off his stool. He stared at them, and they waited in silence.

‘General Sephiroth!’ The man gulped. ‘And you must be the prince consort. General! Prince!’ He stumbled around the counter, looked like he was about to fall to his knees in shocked reverence. ‘How can I … how can I help you?!’

Cloud snuck a glance at Sephiroth’s stony face, and nearly giggled uncontrollably. ‘Good evening. A table for two would be great,’ he said brightly.

‘Of course!’ the man said hurriedly, as if he was belatedly realizing that they might actually be here for a meal. He nearly fell over in awe. ‘You’re here to visit this humble restaurant? We’re so honored to have you here, General! And you too, Prince Consort, but our fine, mighty general … I didn’t even know you frequented these parts.’

It was hard to describe the expression on Sephiroth’s face – was it a faint distaste, or was it embarrassment? Possibly both. Either way, he refused to engage. Cloud took over out of sympathy for the both of them.

He thrust out a hand which the man shook gratefully. ‘What’s your name, sir?’

‘I’m James, but most people just call me Jimmy, my lord.’

‘Jimmy, why don’t you show us to our table?’ Cloud said in a friendly manner, and allowed Jimmy to show them to what he considered was his best table in the empty restaurant. Turned out it was the corner booth furthest away from the counter, which was especially great since they could enjoy their privacy. Jimmy, despite his earlier shock, seemed to have good instincts. He brought them their menus, and backed up awkwardly. Cloud kept the smile on his face, because it seemed to calm the overreacting Jimmy.

He didn’t need the menu, knowing already what he wanted. But he watched Sephiroth flip through those grubby plastic pages, the long fingers barely touching the edge of each page, as if by touching it minimally he could avoid catching whatever strangeness this place held. But he closed the menu, then looked at him. ‘I’ll have what you’re having.’

‘Excellent choice,’ Cloud said, steadfastly avoiding the frantic, excited shouting that was coming from the back of the restaurant, and then the kitchen staff slinked out into the corners, all eyes glued on them with fascination.

‘I can see why you don’t come out of the Tower often,’ Cloud remarked. Sephiroth seemed uncomfortable with the attention that he was showered with, and the awkwardness in his demeanor often translated to a distant coldness.

‘It’s complicated,’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud must have been feeling charitable tonight, perhaps because there was the prospect of Nibelheim stew awaiting. He decided to throw a bone. ‘I enjoyed the spar we had this morning.’

It worked, because Sephiroth’s interest was caught, and he turned that stunning sharp face straight at Cloud. ‘I did, as well. You have a lot of power, and you have some technique. Both can be honed, and I believe I can help you with that if that interests you.’

‘Why not?’ Cloud shrugged. ‘I’ve been known to enjoy a spar or two when I’ve been able to. I wish I had taken my broadsword with me now, but I suppose the one you lent me will do.’

‘You have talent,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I can teach you. In the mornings I usually spar with Genesis or Angeal, they’re the ones who’re most likely to give me a workout. But I was surprised that you did too, this morning.’

Cloud knew he was referring to their sparring session, not the one that came immediately after. And yet, his mind turned to it, and he couldn’t hide the flush in his skin. He suddenly felt a bit too warm, and had to look away. He raised an eyebrow at Jimmy, who came bounding over.

‘We’ll have the Nibelheim spiced meat stew, please. Two serves. And also, your recommendation for a drink would be much appreciated.’

‘Perhaps our special Midgar Ale, my lord,’ Jimmy said. ‘It goes great with the stew.’

‘Then that’s what we’ll have,’ Cloud said, smiling, and Jimmy beamed at him. He gave Sephiroth one last, lingering look before he flounced off to the kitchen.

It took a little longer than expected, probably because they were attempting to perfect their existing stew. But the ale was cold and sweet, and the stew was spicy and savory, with a real mouth feel. It was nothing like what he had had at home, but the spices were enough to remind him what he had left behind.

They finished their meal over lazy conversation, with the topics ranging from sparring tactics to weapon advantages. It was all well within Sephiroth’s wheelhouse, and while the conversation was interesting, it had the added effect of putting him at ease. Of course, the ale helped too, and by the end of their meal, Cloud was cheerful, and content – the first time, in a month.

Cloud had just called for the check when Sephiroth stiffened. Jimmy came slinking up with it when Sephiroth turned to Cloud. ‘I don’t suppose you have any gil on you?’

Cloud turned to him. ‘Not at all,’ he said, startled. ‘Jessie’s arranged for my allowance, but I wasn’t planning to buy anything outside. I forgot.’

Sephiroth tensed up. ‘I don’t usually bring any, unless I know specifically I will be spending it.’

They looked at each other, even as Jimmy slid the bill onto the table. ‘Sorry, Jimmy, give us a minute here,’ Cloud said, trying to slide a charmingly apologetic expression on his face. ‘I’m afraid we have to try to sort this out, because neither of us had the sense or the brains to bring any gil out with us.’

Jimmy was startled, but recovered quickly. He clumsily swiped the bill off the table, and attempted to hide it behind his back. ‘My lords, that’s no problem at all! This meal is on the house. Our treat. It’s a great honor you decided to visit our establishment, and I was going to do that anyway, but I wasn’t sure if that would offend you …’

‘No, I wouldn’t do that to you,’ Cloud said. ‘If you would allow me another day, I will pay for the bill, either through my secretary or in person. How embarrassing of us …’

‘No, my lords …’ Jimmy pleaded. ‘No, please, it would be my pleasure to put it on the house. Just though, if I may make a request in return?’

‘Go ahead,’ Cloud said.

‘If it pleases you, please do visit us again.’

Cloud beamed at him. ‘Of course. The Nibel stew was beautiful, and I enjoyed it very much.’

Jimmy almost swooned. Sephiroth grunted, gave the man the smallest of nods, but it was enough to make Jimmy almost tear up in gratitude. They got up to leave, and with Jimmy and the kitchen staff waving them off quite fondly and excitedly too.

The car ride back to the Tower was companionably silent. Sephiroth broke it once to say, ‘I’ll have my secretary Cill handle the payment tomorrow and add a large tip as well.’

‘That would be lovely,’ Cloud said. ‘And a note of thanks wouldn’t go amiss.’

‘I’ll let Cill know.’

Cloud was feeling rather floaty and pleasant at the moment. His belly was full of good stew that reminded him of home, and a nice ale that slid happily in his bloodstream. ‘I’m going up to the rooftop,’ he said, pressing the elevator button for the 70th floor. There was really nothing much there except a helipad and a stairwell, but he wanted to look over the landscape of Midgar City and enjoy the breeze in his hair.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Sephiroth said, after a short pause of hesitation.

‘You don’t have to,’ Cloud said genially. ‘Wouldn’t want to mess up that ridiculous hair of yours.’

He didn’t really know why he said that, but he supposed that the ale and the nice night had served to loosen his tongue.

‘My hair?’ Sephiroth said, rather incredulously. ‘If we want to talk about strange hairstyles, yours is rather peculiar.’

Cloud’s hand went up to his spikes rather self-consciously. ‘No way. You’re the one with the impractical hair. Your enemies could see spot you a mile away.’

‘That was rather the point,’ Sephiroth said archly. ‘Yours may defy gravity, but to what end?’

‘It’s still not as stupid as yours,’ Cloud said, and blinked at Sephiroth innocently.

Sephiroth let out an uncharacteristic snort. Cloud smiled to himself.

They stood at the wall, peering into the inky blackness of the night, with the miniscule dots of lights that glittered in the city. It seemed so far away, but Cloud knew now it was merely a bridge’s travel away. There was something enchanting about the city itself that Cloud realized was starting to grow on him, which was just as well, since this was now his home.

He turned to look at the man next to him.

Sephiroth was leaning forward, his elbows and forearms resting easily on the wall, his hands linked together. The wind was whipping through his hair, flinging his curtain of silver hair out like a veritable cape before it came back to rest against his back. His profile was as sharp as ever, but he just didn’t seem as indomitable as before.

He turned to meet Cloud’s eyes, and Cloud considered the closeness between their bodies. At first he thought to close that distance, to meet those lips with his own, but thought better of it. It felt too … intimate, in an emotional rather than physical sense. Sephiroth’s warning rang in his head.

It was nice to be amicable for once, even verging on friendly. Perhaps he wouldn’t have more, but this … was good enough for now. He turned away, back to the nightscape, when he felt Sephiroth’s hand on his chin, forcing his head to stay in that position, not able to retreat, not able to advance either.

With Cloud’s chin firmly between his thumb and fingers, Sephiroth brought him up and kissed him instead. He closed his eyes, and surrendered quietly, all the while wondering if what was good for now would be enough for later.


	5. Chapter 5

Sephiroth could not stop thinking about the lustful little cat that had now taken over his residence, his time, and now apparently, his mind.

He had awakened nice and early and got in a spar with Genesis, whom he pretty much beat the living shit out of for locking him out of his office the day before. Genesis had become rather hissy, furiously activating the materia on his Rapier and resorting to throwing continuous Firagas at him. Sephiroth could feel smell the singe off a few unfortunate tendrils of his hair when one of Genesis’s endless barrage of magic found their target.

In the end it was merely a spar between friends, and they both parted ways rather exhausted and with a couple of playful insults to each other’s faces. He had gone back to the apartment to shower, and had discovered for once that his spouse was already up and out, which was rare for him because he seemed to like sleeping in.

So he headed to his office, tried to catch up on the endless amount of work he seemed to have. This morning he had two reports from Tuesti alone, and he sighed. He had just made some headway into the first when Cill came in, requested a short meeting. ‘You have the opening of the Sector 6 library this afternoon,’ she reminded him. He groaned inwardly. He did not have time for any of it, but a promise was a promise, so there was nothing to do but to grit his teeth and bear it.

‘Get me out of there as soon as is practicable,’ he said to Cill. ‘I don’t want to stay any longer than necessary.’

‘Got it,’ Cill said. ‘Anyways, I scheduled a meeting for us after the event for the Prince Consort and his secretary.’

That piqued his interest. ‘Why?’

‘They want to discuss a few events that the two of you share,’ Cill said. ‘I thought it was best to get together to hash things out in person. I believe the Prince Consort is close to selecting his patronages, and his secretary thought it best to get your input as well.’

He nodded his agreement and she left his office so he could get back to his work.

By the time Cill told him it was time for the event, he had finished both of Tuesti’s reports, but nothing else of importance. It put him in a fairly poor mood, especially now that he had to attend this useless public library event. He wondered if Genesis would be interested in taking over some of the public relations bullshit things that he had to do, because after all, his friend not only enjoyed the attention, but certainly had the star power to command that power.

He slid into the waiting car, and pulled out the folder he had taken with him. During the short car ride to the Sector 6 public library, he managed to read through the proposal about a request for infantry to deal with a monster problem in one of the small towns in the south-eastern side of the continent. He approved the request, signing and dating it.

He arrived at the event, feeling all eyes on him, and seeing the lightbulbs flash as the assembled press snapped away with their cameras. He rarely did events, and for this reason alone. With the weight of Masamune at his side, as steady and reliable as ever, he stalked up to the front of the library, where a group of people stood waiting for him. They could have been librarians or officials, he wasn’t sure, and certainly didn’t care. Someone handed him a plaque, and he knew his job was just to hand it off to the next set of waiting hands, and he was so impatient about it that he nearly missed that familiar presence that had appeared at his elbow.

Sephiroth turned to look at him, pleasant surprise coursing through his body.

‘Hello,’ Cloud said, then turned to the throngs of people, and waved. There was something so easy, and so natural about the way he conducted himself. Cloud knew what the hungry press and civilians wanted, and he gave it to them.

Sephiroth knew he was a born prince, had been trained in the way of royalty since he was a child. He understood that the tenuous relationship between the monarchy and the citizens had to be reciprocated, nurtured and maintained. It did not come naturally to Sephiroth, and speaking to the citizens was one of the least favorite parts about the job. He did not know how to deal with the fawning, open adoration, where Cloud seemed to accept it quite graciously.

‘Hello,’ Sephiroth said. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was invited to help open this library, just like you,’ Cloud said easily, and waved to the people calling his name. He was dressed formally today, in his traditional Nibelheimian attire of indigo shirt with its single sleeve and black pants, and a half-cape around the waist with the metallic crest of the Nibelheimian wolf Fenrir on his chest.

Sephiroth didn’t say anything else, but he was quietly pleased. This day seemed to have taking an upturn.

He handed off the plaque, and then they were invited to tour the new library. Sephiroth walked in, with Cloud by his side, letting his spouse field all the polite questions and conversation. At one point, they were left alone so a couple of photographers could take their photos as they pretended to browse the shelves.

Sephiroth did no such thing. He merely stared at the stacks of books with disinterest, and then watched as Cloud reached up for one, flipping it in his hands. ‘Do you read for pleasure, Sephiroth?’ Cloud asked. Sephiroth knew he was making conversation for the sake of appearances, but he did it so naturally that Sephiroth felt inexplicably drawn in.

‘No, not for pleasure,’ he answered. ‘I don’t have the time.’

‘I thought so. What was the last book you’ve read?’

‘I don’t really know. It’s been quite a while. Although I can probably recite Loveless to you quite confidently. Genesis often reads it to us. Aloud and repetitively. It’s his favorite book.’

‘Loveless?’ Cloud looked up briefly. ‘I enjoyed that book. I heard that the Midgar Repertory Theatre is putting on the play of Loveless.’

‘Is that something you’re interested in doing?’ Sephiroth asked. ‘We could attend it if you’d like.’

Cloud looked up, this time in surprise. ‘You’re asking me to go with you?’

‘Yes. What’s wrong with that?’

‘Nothing,’ Cloud said, but with a small smile to himself. ‘I would love to, of course.’

Sephiroth made a mental note to tell Cill to get them tickets to the play when it opened. He watched as Cloud put back the book, took another. Then he walked down the aisles, his fingers running lightly against the book bindings. Sephiroth followed him, short of having anything better to do.

When the event was over, they both hopped into the same car back to the Tower, where they settled into what looked like Cloud’s office on the 45th floor. This floor housed the work offices for the civilian secretaries, and Cloud had been given a corner space. A large and comfortable one, he noted with approval.

Cloud’s secretary introduced herself as Jessie, and Sephiroth was distinctly reminded of Zack’s perkiness. She seemed absurdly cheerful, but efficient enough nonetheless. She made them all a cup of tea, then they sat down to discuss schedules.

‘My lord, the reason I’ve asked for a joint meeting today is to run through next month’s social events that you will both be attending. Now, the Prince Consort has indicated to me what his interests and preferences are and the upcoming patronages that he is willing to take on, but for the first six months we aim to give him a lighter schedule so he can slowly acclimatize to his surroundings.’ She turned her diary around to face them. ‘If you take a look at the events, you can let us know what you are willing and able to attend, and we can make the appropriate arrangements.’

There was a joint-engagement at the award-presenting ceremony the next day itself, which pleased him. Then the next day after that …

The next day was _what_?

Jessie must have seen his expression, because she hurried to say, ‘It’s only a proposed date for now, my lord.’

Cill stepped in with her usual implacable calm. ‘This five-day slot is the only stretch of time that we could accommodate for your honeymoon, my lord. The next one won’t be up for another few months, at least. Director Kunsel suggested that we schedule it in and run it by you for approval.’

‘What does Kunsel have anything to do with my honeymoon?’ he growled.

Jessie fielded this one. ‘He said that the citizens are waiting quite excitedly to see you and the Prince Consort go away for a honeymoon, and they’ve been wondering why you haven’t already. Director Kunsel thought it might be a great PR move, and … the Prince Consort has already agreed to it too.’

Sephiroth slid his glance over at Cloud, who was doing his best impression of a statue. He was listening, paying attention, but refusing to say anything. But those eyes couldn’t fool him, Sephiroth thought. His lustful little kitten was looking forward to it. The idea of honeymoon sex excited him, Sephiroth surmised quite irritably. But to him, there was no difference between honeymoon sex and apartment sex. Only one was more convenient for him to do his daily work.

He didn’t want to say no, not when those sky-blue eyes were flashing with a quiet enthusiasm.

‘Also, the director has scheduled the upcoming announcement for the closure of the Sector 2 reactor for after the honeymoon, and that is immediately followed up with your attendance of the Royal Children’s Hospice charity benefit. This way, the announcement is sandwiched between two positive events, and the ratings should hold for a while, hopefully dampening any anti-monarchy sentiment that is usually associated with the reactor shut-downs,’ Cill explained.

He had to admit that there was some clever maneuvering there. The last time the Sector 3 reactor had shut down, they had encountered a two-week protest from diehard reactor loyalists outside the Tower. People did not like it when the supply of mako went down, but it was just a matter of time before they adjusted and adapted.

‘Why five days?’ he asked.

‘Director Kunsel said it’s the optimum number of days for a royal honeymoon. Not too long to be accused of draining taxpayer money unnecessarily, but long enough to suggest that the newlywed bond between the two of you is steadily being established.’

Fucking Kunsel and his logic. The ex-infantryman had risen to the ranks of the Office of Public Relations, and he had a lot of say over the events that he often had to attend. Some days Sephiroth considered Kunsel his mortal enemy, especially with his endless ideas of making him do some useless PR thing or another.

‘It’s five days,’ Cill reasoned. ‘Or three and a half. There will be some photo ops when you depart from Port Midgar, when you arrive at Costa Del Sol to meet to the Mayor, and on your last day, with the locals, just before departing. So think of it as a work trip. But with a few days’ vacation.’

He couldn’t even look at Cloud in the eyes, because he knew exactly what he was thinking. Five days of endless sex in a villa by the beach. Sephiroth did not like the idea of a vacation. It was an unnecessary disruption of his schedule, but he supposed he didn’t have much of a choice. This was one of the compromises he had to work with when he had taken over the empire, and when he had chosen to get married, and there was no point bitching about it.

But Cloud seemed to know he was in a foul mood, because before they parted, he had leaned in to whisper so softly only Sephiroth could hear, ‘We can spar every morning, on the beach. I’ll get better faster, I promise you.’

Sephiroth straightened as he left Cloud’s office, refusing to let his spouse see how much that had pleased him.

The next day and half was a whirlwind of activity on his part, because he basically locked himself in his office in an attempt to decimate the ever-growing pile of paperwork. He did not even want to imagine how his ruthlessly neat desk would look like when he returned. Five days later.

Sleep and food were for the weak, he reasoned to himself. And besides, he could eat and sleep on his honeymoon. Even the very idea of it was distasteful to him. But he refused to think about it because it was a waste of his time, and instead he plowed through the paperwork, wishing he could run Masamune through all these people who’d submitted reports. Tuesti and his fucking extensive reports, especially.

When Kunsel had come into his office with an armful of newspapers, he had snarled. But Kunsel wasn’t deterred, insisting on laying out the front pages of colored, glossy photos of both Cloud and Sephiroth at the library. In that photo, Cloud had a book in his hand, but he looked up at Sephiroth, a faint smile on his face. And himself, staring down, with something akin to interest. They looked, for all intents and purposes, like a shy, happy couple in the thrall of newlywed bliss. Sephiroth realized that Cloud really was rather good at his job.

Kunsel was crowing in victory. ‘Obviously, from a PR point of view, this is gold. The nation is basking in your mutual happiness,’ he said. ‘You need to keep it up, strike while the iron’s hot.’

‘Go away,’ Sephiroth barked.

The night before they were to depart, he was still ensconced in his office. The lights outside were all dimmed, and Cill had gone home hours before. He looked at the clock. It was nearly ten, and he hadn’t had a meal since breakfast. He had even skipped out on his usual spar with Angeal, which definitely did not help his mood. But he was nothing if not stoic, and ignored those hunger pangs and signs of fatigue that set in a while ago.

He hadn’t had to do it in a while, not since those endless days and nights fighting off insurgents in the Wutai mountains and jungle. There, fatigue and hunger didn’t even factor into the equation – survival at all costs was. And it was all forgotten the moment he had stepped out, Masamune sure and keen in his hand, its edge angled slightly to meet the men and women who rushed towards their certain death.

There was sound and movement in front of him, alerting him to the new presence in his empty office. His pen was forgotten in his hand, and those fingers itched to reach upwards to the katana behind him.

He relaxed his grip, forced his entire body to calm. Cloud stood at his glass doors, in his usual black shirt and pants, a small box in his hands. ‘Hey,’ he said when he had pushed open the door.

Sephiroth waited for him to explain his presence here. But Cloud chose not to, instead helping himself to a seat and pushing the box of food across the table to him. It looked like dinner.

He eyed it, before opening up the lid and smelling the freshly heated vegetable soup. He took the spoon that Cloud handed him, and drank it in silence. When he finished it, he took it over to his kitchenette, washed it and put it on the drying rack.

Then he sat back down, pushed away all the neat piles of paperwork into the corners of the large desk. And waited.

Cloud didn’t seem like he was in a hurry, lounging in his chair like he had all day.

Sephiroth knew what he wanted. It was the only reason why he was here at this time of the night instead of waiting up for him in their shared apartment. But he wanted Cloud to say it. He always wanted those innocent-looking lips to say the words, for those eyes to reflect the dark desires inside of him.

And when he did, Sephiroth opened his arms so Cloud could come to him.

He had always regarded his office as a professional space, and he only used it for work, never anything else. He was a man who did not cross lines, and the few occasions in his life that he had, he had paid for those decisions, over and over.

But what he was doing now with his consort, while completely filthy and inappropriate, felt different. He had never once imagined that he would be doing it in his own office, and the thought of how unsuitable it was surprised and titillated him.

His spouse was completely naked and eager in his arms, his cock pressed against their bellies. Sephiroth’s cock was balls-deep inside the well-lubricated asshole, and the tightness and wetness of that heat took his breath away. Cloud had his lips open, allowing Sephiroth’s tongue to plunder his mouth ravenously. He put his hand on Cloud’s swollen cock, feeling him jump and spasm in his hands.

He enjoyed listening to those hot, filthy moans; the helpless whimpers that conveyed quite honestly how much he was loving that frontal assault on his cock and back invasion of his ass. He was a puddle in Sephiroth’s hands, and he liked how Cloud could surrender himself so willingly and openly. He would stop any nothing to satiate his own desires, and Sephiroth felt like he was nothing but a tool to help him achieve that goal.

But that delicious pleasure surged through him as those ass muscles squeezed him back and forth quite mercilessly, as those hips rode him up and down in a controlled, languid way, wantonly and with a great deal of strength and stamina. Cloud was teasing him. It reminded him clearly that he was not dealing with a woman here, but a man at his prime and masculine strength at its apex. It turned him on that he knew he was dealing with no shrinking flower here, but he could fuck Cloud into mindless oblivion without caring if Sephiroth was hurting him.

When he felt that pressure rising too hard, too fast, he got to his feet, spun Cloud around and slammed him into the desk, then re-penetrated that warm tight hole. He brought those hips to him, again and again and again, until Cloud cried out helplessly, spurted his come all over his thick mahogany desk. With one last thrust, he released his orgasm inside of his husband, and then collapsed into his chair, taking Cloud with him.

His heart was thundering in his ears, and the blood rush energized him even as it depleted the rest of his strength. All at once his body relaxed, calmed, rid of all the pent-up anger that he had held the last couple of days since he had found out that he had basically been dispatched to go on his honeymoon. If he had to spend the next five days buried in that tight warmth, it wasn’t so bad.

‘Good night,’ Cloud said, when he was able to stand on shaking legs to pull on his clothes, his cheeks flushed, his eyes sparkling. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ With that, he left the office, limping a little bit and a spring in his step despite it all.

Sephiroth looked at the mess on his desk, shook his head. Then he got up to clean himself up, and the desk, so he could get back to work. He needed to make sure he did as much as humanly possible so he could spend the entirety of his honeymoon fucking that ass until Cloud couldn’t walk anymore, let alone keep that little sassy little smirk on his face.

They stood at Port Midgar the next morning, in front of the assembled wolf packs of press photographers who flashed their stupid camera bulbs at them constantly. He listened in impatience as Kunsel rattled off the honeymoon itinerary for all and sundry. When it finally ended, they boarded the ship – no, more like a pleasure barge – bound for Costa Del Sol.

They were just standing at the bow of the ship as the crew was completing their departure and safety checks when he heard an unmistakable voice behind them.

‘Guess who drew the short straw for guard duty, people!?’ Zack bellowed at the team of security that were currently huddled together in a meeting as he boarded the ship.

‘Zack!’ Cloud said, with so much enthusiasm in his voice that Sephiroth had to turn to look at him for a moment. His face radiated with a genuine joy to see Zack, which startled him. He wasn’t aware that they were friends.

‘I didn’t know you knew him well,’ Sephiroth mentioned even as Zack strut across the ship.

Cloud turned to Sephiroth. ‘He’s been teaching me a couple of things or two when we spar in the evenings. He’s a really nice man.’

Sephiroth turned even as Zack reached them, this irrepressible merriment, this blind determination to be optimistic radiating off him in waves. At first he was irritated, as he would been with anyone else he knew coming on board with them for the honeymoon. But perhaps the pup would serve a purpose, Sephiroth considered. After all, Zack was a deft hand at combat, and perhaps if Zack and Cloud took him on … it might even be a challenge.

‘Hey,’ Cloud said, warmth in his voice, pleasure in his eyes. ‘What did you do to deserve this unfortunate fate?’

Zack sighed dramatically. ‘Trust me, not my choice. But they needed a SOLDIER First Class to lead the team of security escorts, and I got tapped. Last thing I want to do for the next five days is to … y’know, be anywhere near a bunch of newlyweds. No thanks! But a job’s a job, and you’re lucky to have me, because Genesis was chafing to take my place.’

Cloud laughed appreciatively.

‘Yeah, that Gen, he’s mad as a dog and twice as nuts. He kept hounding me for the job, saying that it would be his absolute pleasure to guard the both of you while you were on your honeymoon, but he kept saying “honeymoon” in like a totally fucked-up disgusting voice, like, you know, in a perverted way, I can’t even imitate it in polite company, and Angeal had to pull him off of me and remind him that the both of them were appointed regents while Sephiroth was away, and if stuff didn’t get done you would boil their balls for dinner. So Genesis backed off.’

Sephiroth grunted. Zack was talking so fast and non-stop Sephiroth had to wonder if he needed to take a breath.

‘Obviously I don’t mind this gig, but it sure sucks to be guarding a bunch of newlyweds while in this beautiful, gorgeous sunny location, you know? So I thought about it, and I told Aerith to pack her bags, she’ll be joining me in a couple of days.’ He saw the look on Sephiroth’s face, and added, ‘But no worries, we’re not going to crash your pad, uh-uh. Even I’m not that dense. That would just be weird, and I’m certainly no Genesis. I’ve put in for the deluxe villa at the Costa Del Sol Grand Resort, she’s going to be so pleased, always wanted to treat her to something nice, hope you guys don’t mind that I namedropped you guys so I could get a discount for the villa, yeah?’

‘Of course not,’ Cloud said. ‘Is the resort near our chateau?’

‘About ten minutes away. Close enough for me to keep an eye on the team, but far enough so you don’t feel like I’m encroaching on your privacy.’

‘You’re already encroaching on our privacy,’ Sephiroth pointed out.

Zack beamed at him, sunny and sweet. ‘Ye-ah, but not for long. I know your instructions, general. You want us to stay out of sight. Duly noted and agreed with, by the way. I don’t exactly want to be within … uh … hearing or seeing distance of the two of you.’ He blushed a little. ‘Not that you’re not entitled to it, of course, I don’t care what you guys do on your own, as long as I-’

‘Stop talking now, Fair,’ Sephiroth said, and Zack heaved a huge sigh of relief.

‘Ye-ah, I thought I should have, maybe two seconds ago.’

Sephiroth noted that Cloud laid a familiar hand on Zack’s arm. ‘Perhaps you could join us for a morning spar or two,’ he invited, and Sephiroth instantly snapped back to attention. His spouse knew him well.

‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ Zack said. ‘Your form is getting really nice, Cloud. You just gotta keep on with those exercises I taught you. Did you bring your broadsword, then?’

‘Yes, I had it packed.’ Cloud said.

‘Good. Anyways, I better do my job and go brief the team before we take off. Relax, and have fun, yeah?’ Zack waved, and left them alone again. Blessed silence, Sephiroth thought.

They spent the rest of the journey in relative silence, Cloud breaking it every now and then to explain to Sephiroth the patronages that he had chosen to undertake. A lot of them were environmental charities, which spoke a lot about his core interests. There was sprinkling of organizations that had to do with children, and the upcoming charity that they were doing the benefit for was one of them. All in all, Sephiroth was glad to see him diving into the work. Being the general’s spouse, from what he could see, carried little benefits on their own, but held tremendous influence. But the fact that the Prince Consort was choosing to immerse himself in Midgar society by doing good was always nice to see.

They arrived at Costa Del Sol by late afternoon, and waiting on the docks were the officials, a large group of locals and an assembled pack of photogs who could rival their Midgar counterparts in terms of their insatiable need to snap a picture of him and his husband. Sephiroth groaned inwardly. He hated all this ridiculous pomp and circumstance; it was a waste of time and resources.

The mayor greeted him with a handshake. ‘Welcome to Costa Del Sol, Emperor Sephiroth.’

‘General,’ he reminded the mayor, who corrected himself quickly.

But somehow, with Cloud next to him, it wasn’t that bad. He took to these events like duck in water, his supreme confidence automatically making Sephiroth feel at ease. Perhaps there was something he could learn here, he mused. Maybe he didn’t have to love these events, but there was something to be said for being able to portray that level of self-assurance with the press.

A mercifully short while later, with about two rounds of handshakes, a couple of speeches and a dance performance he had been forced to sit through, they had been escorted to their chateau with a stretch of a private beach.

Sephiroth was satisfied. The wide expanse was large enough for a good spar, and the greenish-blue waters were calm and inviting. Within the chateau itself was a large in-ground swimming pool, and an enormous bedroom roughly the size of their entire apartment in Shinra Tower. The adjoining living space and kitchen was decent, and he saw with some regret the large teak work desk in the study area that could be closed off. If he had known there was a dedicated work space, he would have brought some paperwork with him.

Within the confines of the villa, Cloud wasted no time christening their honeymoon spot. He stripped down to nothing and got on his knees, those deft fingers unbuckling Sephiroth’s pants and taking him wholly and hungrily into his mouth. That tongue was very clever, Sephiroth discovered, liking to take his time teasing the head and shaft, sucking on him with various degrees of pressure, but the warm heat and moistness of his mouth consistently made things very pleasurable indeed.

Tired of the endless teasing, Sephiroth yanked him off, flung him to the ground, and mounted that tight ass that he had come to enjoy quite a bit. The carpet burn on his knees ended up being worth it, and he fucked that willing hole until Cloud was gasping and choking with pleasure.

They collapsed onto the ground, curled into each other. When they finally got up to clean up, Sephiroth had regained enough strength and energy to make it round two, nailing him against the wet shower wall, letting the strong water pressure from the rain shower pound on their overheated skins.

Cloud staggered onto the bed, knees shaking and trembling. ‘I don’t think I can do another round,’ he said, his eyes closing from exhaustion. But Sephiroth wasn’t done, not by a long shot. He shoved those legs up to his ears and penetrated that moist little hole, now soft and wet and slippery from the repeated ejaculations. And yet, despite what his mouth said, Cloud’s body responded hungrily to the onslaught, clawing Sephiroth’s back and pulling him deeper inside of him and holding on, their hips snapping keenly against each other. The firm body below him was taut like a pulled bow, with the arrow quivering until the moment of release.

He came so hard that he felt like he was on the verge of losing consciousness. Stars exploded in the back of his eyes, and he blinked the sweat away. His orgasm had been so all-consuming that he hadn’t realized that Cloud had come until he had felt the wetness smeared on him, painted across his stomach. Their bodies still joined, he rolled over on his back, taking Cloud with him, who grunted incoherently as he landed with a plop on top of him, their rapidly cooling skins touching.

‘Mmm,’ Cloud said.

Sephiroth blinked up at the ceiling as his breathing regulated itself.

Cloud was already falling fast asleep on his chest, slipping in and out in a sated doze, gentle snores rumbling from that sleeping, beautiful mouth.

Sephiroth would let him sleep, but they had agreed to having dinner down by the beach. And while he didn’t care about disappointing anybody, he knew that Cloud would prefer to keep that promise. It was one of those special candle-lit dinners, this one being generously paid for by the mayor of Costa Del Sol. He patted Cloud by the arm, gently shaking him awake.

‘We need to get to dinner,’ he said.

Cloud murmured, then groaned. ‘Right,’ he mumbled. ‘Give me five more minutes.’

Sephiroth closed his own eyes, counted to 300. Then he shook Cloud again, this time with a little more urgency. ‘It’s been five minutes. Get up.’

Cloud shifted, moaned, pulling himself into a sitting position. While he was trying to rub sleep out of his eyes, Sephiroth stared at that body – firm, masculine, clad in nothing but air, yet it was so vulnerable, so needy and honest to its own desires.

He had never met anyone like that, as honest and forthright as this man that he had married. And yet as the layers of his personality began peeling back across the last week or so, Sephiroth was seeing quite a different, complex person – multiple facets of his personality revealing itself in a myriad of ways. He could be so incensed at one moment, and yet so charming and pleasant in the other. He fought like a wildcat during their spars, his resilience outshining his own frustration to gain the upper hand. And then he was so painfully, brutally honest about what he wanted in bed; and out in public, he smiled and shook hands and dealt with all with a deep reservoir of patience.

Sephiroth couldn’t lie to himself – he clearly enjoyed Cloud’s company. And that was a complication he hadn’t expected. So he merely reminded himself to be careful. Someone like Cloud, if given the opportunity, could worm his way into his heart, under and above all the walls he had built. Those blue eyes, and that blond hair – it reminded him too much of someone he once knew. And that was not acceptable, because he had no interest in giving his heart to anyone.

The last time that had happened, it had ended in disaster. He had no interest whatsoever in making that mistake again.

They ran a quick shower, got dressed. It was meant to be a casual dinner with just the two of them, so Sephiroth threw on loose pants and a long shirt, watching as Cloud did the same. They strolled barefoot from the villa down to the private beach, where a cabana had been set up over a small table for two. The evening had already given way to the night sky, and torches had been placed in four corners, lending enough light for them to see their food, but not enough to wreck the romantic ambience.

The wait staff appeared discreetly as soon as they were seated, pouring a deep red wine into their wineglasses. There was a hint of citrus in the wine, Sephiroth could tell, otherwise he was no great expert. The entrée platter arrived, and Cloud had begun picking at it. Perhaps because of their energetic activities prior, Sephiroth was ravenous, and soon the entrée had disappeared as quickly as it had been placed at their table.

‘Thank you for coming here with me,’ Cloud said.

‘Well, it wouldn’t be a honeymoon without my presence, would it?’ Sephiroth answered, quite genially. The wine was loosening his tongue, as had probably the three rounds of sex prior to this. ‘Is there anything you would like to do in the next few days? Other than the obvious, that is.’

Cloud shrugged. ‘Nothing, really. This place is so beautiful, I don’t mind just hanging around here. Just some sun, and some swimming, and a good book – I’m good to go. It would be nice for you though, I’m hoping. You’ve been working so hard.’

‘The paperwork never ends,’ Sephiroth agreed. ‘As soon as I’m done with one report another two land on my desk.’

‘Is there anything that I can help with at all?’ Cloud asked, helping himself to a slice of cheese. The wait staff had placed another platter in front of them, this one with exotic looking pickles and grapes, cheese and fruit.

Sephiroth was about to say no when he considered it. If he could utilize Cloud’s expertise, that would be one less portfolio he needed to be concerned with. But he didn’t want to rush him. After all, he’d only been in Midgar for a less than a couple of months. ‘Philanthropic work,’ he said. ‘Your wheelhouse. I wouldn’t mind you casting an eye over it, see what portfolios you can take on besides yours. But I want you to take it slowly, and only when you’re ready.’

‘Of course,’ Cloud said. ‘It’s my role to help you however that may be. It’s what I used to do back in Nibelheim, so it shouldn’t be a problem at all. My brother was too busy overseeing the running of the kingdom, so naturally any sort of charity portfolio came to me. I assigned the patronages and supervised the schedules for the representatives, myself included, along with my mother, my brother and sister-in-law, and several of my cousins as well. I could probably do it in my sleep by now.’

‘Very well,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Go ahead and take over it as soon as you’re comfortable doing it. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Cloud said, sipping his wine, his eyes suddenly taking on a pensive, faraway look.

‘You miss home,’ Sephiroth said, more a statement than a question.

‘Of course,’ Cloud said wistfully. ‘I just don’t know when it would be the next time I’ll see them again.’ He turned back to Sephiroth. ‘Of course, my brother and sister-in-law have been trying for a child. I’ve been hoping to go back for a visit when there is a niece or nephew to see, of course. It’s a momentous occasion, the birth of an heir, as you can understand.’

‘Of course,’ Sephiroth said. ‘You can visit anytime you want, you know.’

‘Ah, but I can’t, not really,’ Cloud said wistfully. ‘The tributary agreement that we share specifies the visits to home only happen when necessary, and subject to approval from the emperor.’

‘That sounds terribly old-fashioned to me.’

Cloud blinked. ‘You’re the one who initiated the tributary agreement,’ he said. ‘You didn’t think to amend it before you sent it out?’

Ah. How on Gaia would he explain the circumstances of the tributary agreement? He couldn’t, so perhaps it was best to leave it at that. He didn’t want Cloud finding out that his coming to live in Midgar was merely an unexpected whim of fate, not a conscientious decision on his part.

‘Hmm,’ he merely demurred. ‘You may visit Nibelheim anytime you want. I will ensure the agreement is amended.’

They continued devouring the plates of food that had been placed between them. ‘Tell me what Nibelheim’s like.’

Cloud’s gaze turned misty. ‘Fresh air. Tall, treacherous mountains. We see a lot of snowfall around winter. It’s always green, a different kind of green than the trees that I see around Midgar. We have a lot more trees, forests. It smells like pine, all the time. The Nibelheim castle is old. Worn out. Always cold, because the stone walls are not really great at keeping out the draughts. We almost always have a fire going, unless it’s high summer. Then it’s always busy with the harvests, and the festivals, and the celebrations. It’s home,’ he said wistfully, then suddenly blinked, as if embarrassed. ‘No. This is my home now. That was … my home back then.’

Sephiroth almost felt bad for Cloud. He didn’t know what it felt like to throw away everything that you had ever known to move entirely to a different country, one that you had never even stepped foot on. He had lived his entire life in Midgar, at Shinra Tower, actually. That had always been home for him, and it was never going to be any different. Yes, he had been told that he had been born in Nibelheim, but he had been an infant then, so it didn’t matter. But if he ever had to move away, like Cloud had once done … no, that was unfathomable to him.

‘Perhaps one day you could visit Nibelheim with me,’ Cloud said.

It seemed unlikely that it could ever happen, Sephiroth thought. Nibelheim was too far away. The last time he had been that far away, he had been drawn into a war with Wutai that lasted nearly ten years. Now though, he had responsibilities that no one else could shoulder. Five days at Costa Del Sol was probably the furthest he could go.

Cloud seemed to be able to sense his answer. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘It’s difficult for you to take the time off. But may I ask you a personal question?’

‘Of course,’ Sephiroth said, drained the rest of his wine. It was very good, and he had enjoyed it.

‘You are the head of the Shinra Empire. But you seem offended when anyone tries to address you as emperor or king. I mean, that’s technically the correct title for someone of your position. Is there a reason for this?’

And just like that, that fragile peace that they had been unconsciously building the last two weeks dissipated in an instant.

He couldn’t help it. This was one of his biggest sore points, and he absolutely _despised_ it whenever it was brought up. Because it forcibly reminded him of what he had done in order to arrive at this point. He never wanted to be the emperor. It had been out of necessity that he had been crowned.

‘I don’t like to talk about it,’ he said snappishly. But it did not deter his spouse, who seemed startled.

‘Why?’

Sephiroth leaned back in his chair. ‘I don’t like to talk about it,’ he repeated.

Cloud dabbed at his mouth with his napkin as he considered his next words. ‘Right.’

Now it was a heavy silence that hung between them. It seemed like whatever goodwill that they had built up had disappeared in an instant.

That familiar wariness and that dislike came back into those magnificent blue eyes again, and suddenly Sephiroth understood why. Cloud did not like the idea of a military coup against royalty, because after all, he was royalty himself. Sephiroth didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him before.

‘I apologize,’ Sephiroth said. It was the only thing he could say. But Cloud was like a dog with a bone, and he wouldn’t let go.

‘At the risk of upsetting you, I want to say that I would like to know the reasons behind your refusal to be acknowledged as the emperor. I understand that you’re unwilling to do so now, but I hope that it could change. Soon. I would like to get to know you better, and I am uncomfortable with the idea of me not knowing or understanding anything about something that deeply upsets you.’

Sephiroth had to give it to him. His response was logical, even reasonable. Despite himself, Sephiroth felt tempted. He had carried this burden with him for so long, and had never shared the whole story with a single person. The ones who already knew had been part of it. But he wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if he could ever be ready.

But he could consider it, and he said as much. ‘I’ll think about it.’

It seemed to have the effect of slightly thawing out that frostiness that emanated from Cloud. ‘Very well.’

But those eyes remained distrustful still, and Sephiroth found himself concerned by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, reader! Just wanted to leave you a note saying thank you for all the kudos and comments. I promise you - I am reading each one and sending you mental thanks. It really is very encouraging, and is pretty much the reason I write my ridiculously lengthy smut fics. That, and because I have a dirty imagination, what can I say.


	6. Chapter 6

Cloud brought down his broadsword with both hands, a wild, uncontrolled stroke that was easily blocked by a swing of Masamune. On the opposite end of that sword, Sephiroth shook his head at him, in disapproval, presumably over his lack of control. But Cloud was becoming increasingly frustrated, and it was beginning to show in his fighting.

‘Calm yourself,’ Sephiroth chided. ‘You’re telegraphing your responses way in advance.’ He swung Masamune back, and used the momentum of his arm to crash heavily against Cloud’s broadsword. He had no choice but to take a step back, then another, and another, as Sephiroth advanced.

Cloud’s feet had no traction when they were practically sinking into the soft sand. With some dismay he realized that he was stepping onto moist, wet sand. Sephiroth was pushing him into the water, and yet he could do nothing but defend himself by parrying the furious slurry of strokes. When he finally stopped, he was already knee deep in the water, the cold waves washing over him, soaking his pants so they clung to his skin.

He was well beyond frustrated at this point. He straightened up, flung his broadsword way past Sephiroth’s shoulder. A small part of him wished that it would have at least nicked him, but it flew wide and the general barely even twitched. The sword landed in the sand. Sephiroth only stared at him, those cat-green eyes telegraphing their cool disapproval at his temper tantrum. 

Cloud’s chest heaved up and down. He was so pissed off that he had let his own frustration get the better of him. What had he expected? That he would be able to beat the great Sephiroth in battle? He must have been smoking some serious shit if he had even considered that it could be done.

Sephiroth himself stepped back, lowered his katana to his side. He waited for Cloud to make a decision, never scolding, never pleading, never cajoling. His face was calm, distant and indifferent. Cloud stalked past the man, and back into the chateau.

He flung himself petulantly onto the wide, luxurious bamboo bed, and screamed into the pillow, heedless of the moisture in his wet pants seeping onto the clean sheets. In the distance, through the window, he could still see the figure of Sephiroth standing there, sword still by his side, staring into the distance. The ocean breeze tugged at those long silver strands until it billowed out to his side like a flyaway cape. Even from this far away Cloud could make out the firm musculature of his body, honed from years of endless training.

He had been fooling himself to think that there was even a chance he could have bested Sephiroth in a fight. His rigid determination couldn’t actually beat real talent, practiced until mastery had been achieved. But he had thought to himself, he just needed one opening. After all, Sephiroth was human. He was bound to slip up at some time.

But he realized now that it wasn’t possible. He didn’t make mistakes, because one mistake could have ended his life. This man was a war machine, and he had fought and slaughtered hundreds, maybe even thousands who had the misfortune to come his way. Cloud could not beat him at a fight.

Perhaps it was exactly why Sephiroth had made that deal with him.

On the first morning of their arrival at Costa Del Sol, Sephiroth had woken him up at the crack of dawn, and said, ‘Wake up. You promised that you would spar with me.’

The night before had ended up in that quasi-disagreement where Sephiroth had refused to answer a simple question. Cloud had tossed and turned with anger until he had fallen asleep shortly after midnight. And it hadn’t helped that because Sephiroth had fucked him thrice in one day, his back hurt like a bitch.

When he had been rudely jolted awake, all he could feel was that horrible sensation of sleep deprivation and the screaming soreness of his muscles and his ass.

If Sephiroth thought that Cloud would get up for a spar at dawn, then he had another think coming.

He whipped the sheets over his head, and closed his eyes, only for the sheets to be flung back.

‘I want a spar,’ Sephiroth said, so infuriatingly calmly that Cloud tossed the pillow at him. It bounced harmlessly off that chest. He buried his head into the sheets.

‘No,’ he mumbled. ‘Fuck off.’

There was a short silence, in which Cloud thought the haughty general might have actually walked away. But a moment later, his voice came through, crystal clear and measured.

‘I’ll make you a deal, Cloud. If you can beat me at one of our spars, I’ll answer whatever questions you have.’

Cloud lifted his head.

Had he heard wrong?

‘What?’ he rasped, voice still scratchy from sleep.

‘I believe you heard me,’ Sephiroth said. And this time, he walked off.

‘Fucking son of a bitch,’ he swore, then got his ass out of bed. His muscles hurt so much they were actually trembling, but the longer he stood, the better he felt. He wanted the whole story out of the reticent bastard, and come hell or high water, he would pry it out of him.

He got dressed, and picked up his broadsword to join Sephiroth on the beach outside. And then proceeded to get his ass handed to him.

That had been the first day. It was now the second day of him continuously trying to defeat Sephiroth, even for a second. He had tried playing it straight, he had outright tried to trick the canny bastard, but nothing fazed him. His expression didn’t even change for a second, never shifting from that relaxed appearance with that glint of pleasure.

He pushed himself so hard that his body was now in full-on retaliatory mode. Everything hurt; he actually felt like crying from the constant pain. But he buried his head into the pillow and squeezed back those hot, angry tears. And then he fell asleep.

When he woke up from his dreamless nap, he was hazy and disoriented. He noted absently that the sheets were wet, but his pants were off, and he lay there in his underwear and shirt. Had he taken it off in his sleep?

He sat up groggily, winced at the reminder of the dull aches that coursed through his beaten body. He looked at the clock. No wonder he felt hot and sticky. It was a little after 2pm, when the sun was high up in the sky and apparently, trying to burn off his skin despite the cool air that circulated from the fans above him. He’d slept for about five hours, he guessed.

The hot shower he had dragged himself into had helped, as did the plate of steak and vegetables on the dining table. His spouse, however, was nowhere to be found, and for once, Cloud was kind of glad. He wanted to brood on his own.

What had happened the night before last had been like a slap in the face. He had thought that he and Sephiroth were actually getting along, and they were finally finding common ground despite the rocky start at the beginning of their marriage. He had thought to himself more than once, this man isn’t so bad, he just needed to give Sephiroth a chance. 

He had asked what he thought was a fairly innocent, innocuous question, and was shocked when Sephiroth refuse to answer. There was a strange vehemence in his words when he spoke of it, and Cloud wanted to know why. Whether or not he was right, he felt entitled to an explanation – and chafed when he hadn’t received one. He didn’t care if it was unreasonable of him or not – this was a man who had killed an emperor, his heir, and had taken their place. And yet, when someone actually addressed by his correct title, he refused it.

What kind of man was this?

Why had he actually done it, when he had pledged his fealty to his king? And not only had he killed the emperor, he had killed the son as well.

Why would he have usurped the throne in the first place if he hadn’t wanted it?

Cloud didn’t claim to understand the reasoning behind Sephiroth’s thoughts. The idea of him being married to a king-killer was actually deeply abhorrent to him – and yet, he was bound by the tributary agreement to do so, a tributary agreement that Sephiroth seemed to have very little knowledge of.

He thought that Sephiroth had softened enough to actually provide some answers to his question – but he was wrong.

And now he dangled this stupid carrot in his face – he would tell Cloud everything if only he could manage to beat him. If Cloud had bothered to consider it properly, he would have come to the natural conclusion that it was impossible, and that Sephiroth was a manipulative, cunning piece of shit that Cloud currently wanted nothing to do with.

It looked like they were back to having angry sex, Cloud thought irritably. It was his own damn fault for thinking Sephiroth was anymore different to when they first met.

He threw on a pair of sunglasses, and lounged in one of the poolside chairs in the shade, clad in a pair of swimming shorts. Within five minutes of placing his order with the villa’s dedicated butler, he had a sweet, cold drink sweating in his hand.

He had tried for two days with no results so far, and he was no longer interested in trying. It was a rigged, one-sided deal, and he felt incredibly stupid for even entertaining it in the first place.

So when Sephiroth walked up to him, Cloud refused to acknowledge his presence, let alone look at him in the eyes. Sephiroth sat down next to him, but said nothing. Not even a greeting.

Two could play this game, Cloud thought to himself. He pushed the sunglasses high up on his nose, and leaned back in the lounge chair. He had slept too much to even attempt a nap, so he closed his eyes, hummed to himself.

He considered what to do next. Maybe he would go look for Zack, have a spar with him instead. How would Sephiroth feel about that? Cloud thought pettily.

Next to him, Sephiroth still didn’t speak. He either didn’t care about the silence, or he preferred it that way. Either way, it was supremely damning, and downright infuriating. He considered stalking off, but realized that he was here first.

So instead, he turned slowly to fix a glare at the man who sat beside him.

Sephiroth turned to meet his gaze. All Cloud could see was indifferent bafflement in those guileless green eyes. ‘You are angry.’

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ Cloud muttered. ‘Don’t ask me why I’m angry, Sephiroth. You know why. I don’t care if you think I’m being unreasonable or petty. I’m pissed off at you, and right now, the sheer fucking sight of you is upsetting me even more.’

Silence.

Cloud was just about to lean back, satisfied he got a punch in, when-

‘For someone with your princely background, you sure have a potty mouth. Who taught you how to swear like that?’ His voice was cool, casual, and worst of all, completely unoffended.

Cloud’s head came up so quickly it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. ‘It’s none of your damned business, and I would thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.’

If he had been in a better mood, he might have cheerfully explained that his commanding officer while he was in military service was a cigarette-chewing, tough motherfucker, and every third word out of his mouth was an expletive. He would regale him with tales of what he had gotten up to while in the military, where he was treated just like everyone else. He had loved every moment of it. But instead, he was snapping. Why was he letting Sephiroth needle him like this?

Sephiroth stood up instead, and tilted his head towards the bedroom. ‘Come along now. I’m tired of your moods, and I know what you like doing to relieve that frustration.’

He rose to the bait like a goddamned fool of a fish. ‘Excuse me?’

‘If you come with me, I’ll fuck your tantrum out of you.’

Cloud whipped his sunglasses off and threw them at Sephiroth, who caught it and flung it into the pool. Of course he did, Cloud thought wearily. Was there anything that Sephiroth couldn’t do well?

Oh right. There was one thing - being a decent human being. He was pretty piss poor at that.

‘No,’ he snapped. ‘Now go away.’

‘Ah, the prince and his temper,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Very well, if you insist on holding onto your anger, that is your choice.’ The flippant tone and that goddamned infuriating indifference made him snap.

‘Why did you kill them in the first place?’ Cloud asked, not caring about the way Sephiroth’s entire body went rigid. Two could play this game, indeed. When Sephiroth did not answer, Cloud continued with his barrage. ‘There is no good reason for regicide, ever. But tell me, was it just greed or ambition that made you do it? Or was it both?’

Sephiroth turned to him. ‘Why does my past offend you so, dear prince?’

‘Why wouldn’t it anger me? It would anger anyone with a sense of decency,’ Cloud retorted. ‘You killed your king, the one you swore an allegiance to protect! There is no excuse for your barbarism, and don’t you dare turn this on me.’

‘What’s wrong with me killing the emperor if I decided that he deserved nothing but death?’ Sephiroth said, and this time a glacial iciness entered his tone. Cloud could see that he was beginning to get under his skin, despite the fact that he knew clearly he was being provoked as well.

‘A king has the divine right and might to rule,’ Cloud said. ‘A king is born into the role, and raised to be a guiding light for his nation. Who are _you_ to decide that he deserved death?’

Sephiroth laughed mirthlessly. ‘ _Divine right_? There is no god that appointed the Emperor of Shinra. Kings become so only because of a combination of circumstance and power. Your ancestors were not appointed by some almighty god, _prince_. They merely succeeded to rule because they were powerful enough to exert their will over others. Do not fool yourself into believing that kings were born to rule.’

‘Even if that was true, kings were groomed to rule. They were born to this specific role, educated in policy and governance their entire life. That is something you were never exposed to, ideas you never raised in. That alone makes them vastly more qualified than you are to the throne. They are forced to learn the weight of the crown, something a commoner like you would never understand!’

‘Is that why you think you’re superior to me?’ Sephiroth asked, a small, cruel smile around his lips. ‘I might remind you that despite your supposed superior, royal ancestral lineage, you are the one who was groomed to be the prince consort, and yet ended up being wed to this commoner who killed a king. I am a mere usurper to the throne, but at least I know my place. Do you know yours?’

Cloud glared at him with intense dislike. He stood up now. ‘I do know my place,’ he said quietly. ‘And believe me, there’s not a single day where I don’t regret ending up where I am right now. With you.’

Sephiroth tilted his head elegantly, his cold jade eyes sending a down Cloud’s spine despite the burning heat of shame and anger in his body. ‘How unfortunate for you,’ Sephiroth drawled.

Cloud got up, seared him with a fiery gaze that spoke volumes about his contempt, and took a running leap into the cool cerulean waters of the swimming pool. The heat of the day was immediately forgotten as he plunged his entire body into the water. He took a sharp intake of breath, then immediately began stroking across the length of the pool.

He had spent many Nibelheim summers swimming in lakes. He loved that feeling of weightlessness, the way his body moved in the water. He was reminded so much of home that the pang of homesickness immediately outweighed the anger and the frustration. As he kept swimming laps, pushing himself until he felt like his lungs would burst from the exertion, he felt the calm overtake him.

Why was he letting someone like Sephiroth push him so far? Why did he even care about his opinion, when Sephiroth meant nothing to him?

He floated aimlessly in the shaded part of the pool, splayed like a starfish, the retrieved sunglasses firmly on his face as he whiled away the afternoon. He soaked himself until he felt like a dried-out husk, then stood up in the shallow end of the pool, feeling the burn of sunlight touch his shoulders even as the waters sluiced away from him.

That despised man still sat there, unmoving and still as a statue. The only thing that moved in that stingy breeze was those cat-green slit eyes, following every move that he made.

Very slowly, very deliberately, he peeled off his wet board shorts, and left it pooled at his feet. He stretched languidly, feeling the sunlight kiss every part of his exposed body, ignoring those eyes that burned into his skin. Then he turned around to lock eyes with the general, issuing a silent command for him to follow if he wished.

He strolled leisurely back into the coolness of the villa, where the fans were working overtime to circulate a pleasant breeze in the bedroom. He let his fingers graze against the wall, the wooden paneling, his feet brushing against the tiles as he padded a path to the bed. He flopped onto the mattress, yawned, reached over for the small bottle on the bedside table. He uncapped it, poured a liberal amount into his right hand.

He rubbed his fingers between each other until the slick liquid felt warm and pliable in his hand. He hummed gently upon hearing the footsteps that had followed his path into the bedroom. Sephiroth stood there, face as impassive as ever.

Cloud put his slippery hand right on his own cock, and experimentally stroked up and down several times. The dormant nerves in his groin began to tingle to life, and he closed his eyes. He had managed a half-erection when his fingers wandered downward, and towards the tiny pucker below his balls. He rubbed lazily at the rim, then slipped one finger in.

A frisson of pleasure began brewing in the deepest pit of his stomach as his body both braced against and welcome the assault. It felt wet and soft inside, and he put another finger in, marveling at the burn and stretch of his muscles.

He leaned back against the mountain of silk pillows and cushions, drawing his legs up as high as he could manage, and spreading his thighs as far as they could go. He kept his gaze firmly set on the man who stood at the doorway, allow his body to beckon him while distancing him at the same time.

His fingers slid in and out in a steady rhythm, and he curled his fingers just so in order to hit that pleasure spot of his that he knew so well by now, enjoying the quiver of sensation that ricocheted in his nervous system. His entire body began tensing up, little by little, until his eyes fluttered closed, and his fingers kept rubbing in and out, in and out. His head was burrowed back into the pillow, eager to find some traction to hold him while he surrendered his body to this immodest pleasure of the senses. 

Then a shadow fell across him, and his eyes flickered open to see the curtain of silver hair that hid him from the world. His fingers fell away, forgotten, to make way for something he knew would fill him up to the brim, give him this insane, otherworldly pleasure that he needed so badly. He opened his arms to welcome this man, their argument forgotten temporarily in favor of seeking that crushing heat that drove the both of them.

He moaned when he felt the invasion of Sephiroth’s cock penetrate his insides, and that sweet, sweet burn was enough to drive him mad with a wanton lust. He twisted, hooked his legs around that back, and kicked his ankles. ‘More,’ he said. ‘Harder.’

‘Always so impatient,’ Sephiroth said, parting Cloud’s thighs and slamming his hips in roughly and crushing his lips, swallowing whatever moans that Cloud began making. It was a quick and dirty fuck, just the way Cloud liked it too. He let those powerful hips, that iron-hard cock take him into the valley of pleasure, where he helplessly dangled along for the ride, following only the pull of the siren’s call that bloomed in the pit of his stomach.

With an agonized cry, he came on his own stomach, his muscles spasming madly, neurons firing in different directions. He panted harshly, struggling and failing to resist that overwhelming friction that sensitized every nerve, with Sephiroth still inside of him, having now slowed down his thrusts.

He felt too big, too much for Cloud this instant, his orgasm now leaving him open and vulnerable. He breathed through gritted teeth, bracing himself against the now endless volley of sensations that rained down upon like lead bullets. ‘Finish already,’ he gasped out, desperate for this torture to end.

‘Not so fast,’ Sephiroth said. ‘You had your pleasure. It’s my turn.’

‘What?’ he gasped in confusion.

‘Come for me again, my little cat,’ Sephiroth whispered, a hint of dark pleasure in his voice. Cloud shivered.

‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I can’t, it’s too much.’

In response, Sephiroth only thrusted harder, his cock slapping so hard against his prostate that he could only gasp in response.

In the end, Cloud found out that he actually could, and he did. Within twenty minutes of his orgasm, his dick twitched to life again at the promise of more. Sephiroth saw his opportunity, wrapped his hand around the shaft, and subjected him to violent waves of pleasure that assaulted him in the front and back.

He orgasmed again, spilling his seed over the drying slick on his stomach, completely wrung-out, and empty. Sephiroth finally withdrew, having exploded inside of him when he finally reached his own peak. Cloud closed his eyes, wondering if his heart would ever go back to beating at a regular rhythm again.

The late afternoon hours passed into early evening, and they remained on the bed, sweat drying off their cooling skins. Above them, the fans whirred away diligently even when he could feel the air outside start to drop in temperature, bringing a wave of relief to the warm villa.

‘I want to know more about you,’ Cloud said quietly. Sephiroth was still and breathing steadily beside him, but he knew he was still awake. ‘As your spouse, your partner in this marriage. As the prince consort. I feel like I deserve to know what happened in your past, especially if it explains why you are especially averse to people calling you by the title you earned.’

‘I didn’t earn the title, I took it,’ Sephiroth said.

‘You can call it whatever you want, but there is no denying that you are the emperor of Shinra, and your empire holds dominion over many parts of Gaia. My question remains simple as it was before, Sephiroth. You’re the one who is refusing to explain … for no good reason. If you have even a modicum of respect for me, or my position at all, you would at least endeavor to explain things to me so I can understand.’

‘You know the deal, Cloud.’

‘You know I can’t beat you,’ Cloud said, resentment and frustration coloring his voice.

‘Then don’t beat me. If you can disarm me successfully, I will tell you my entire, sordid past. If you want to know why I killed the emperor, I will tell you.’

‘Why are you still trying to make this into a game?’ Cloud snapped.

‘Because I like to see that fire in your eyes,’ Sephiroth said, turning to face him in the dimming light. ‘I want to see you earn your victory. My story has been mine for more than five years now. If you wish for me to entrust you with it, you will need to earn it.’

‘So I just have to disarm you? Separate the katana from your hand?’

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth said.

It still sounded like a tall order to him, but at least it seemed slightly more manageable? He turned his mind to it. But perhaps he needed to vary his strategies – brute force was useless in the face of Sephiroth’s skills. He wasn’t known as the best swordsman in the land because he could swing a cool sword. He had earned it, because of his supreme mastery over the katana, who was literally his partner-in-arms.

By the time they had finished dinner, he had formulated a rough plan of sorts. To his surprise, he was actually looking forward to it, excited at the prospect of trying to separate that cool son of a bitch with his butcher’s knife. Would that wipe the smug, overconfident look off his face for once?

As soon as dessert had been cleared from the table, Cloud leaned forward. ‘You and me, one last spar on the beach after this.’

‘Tonight?’ Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s a little late for a spar.’

‘It’s only a little before ten.’

‘Yes, at night,’ Sephiroth reminded him needlessly.

Cloud propped his face in his hands. ‘Are you afraid, my lord?’

Sephiroth stared at him.

Cloud waited.

‘Very well. You may retrieve your broadsword whenever you choose to,’ Sephiroth said. He nodded his head at the katana that never left his side. ‘As you can I see, I am ready.’

You’re ready all right, you cocky son of a bitch, Cloud thought. Ready to lose.

With the only light coming from the outdoor lamps around the cabana, visibility was poor. But in this case, Sephiroth’s long silver hair shone like a beacon in the dark, those cat-green eyes almost shining luminously and Cloud felt it a reliable pointer in his periphery to assist with his depth perception and visual cognition. ‘Can you see in the dark, Sephiroth?’

But apparently Sephiroth wasn’t the only beacon in the dark.

‘Yes, it helps that your spiky blond hair look as bright as a lighthouse in the dark,’ Sephiroth said, and Cloud was almost certain that that was an insult from Sephiroth. He was apparently rather terrible at it.

Cloud grinned, brandished his sword with both hands, pointing ahead so it was straight and true. He prayed that it would find its target, and grant him his wish.

Sephiroth raised his katana over his head, widened his stance, and smiled a small grin that could only be described as a smirk.

He might not have the skill in his corner, he knew, but he had guts, and he had determination. It was as if Sephiroth knew that, and respected it enough to place both hands on his sword in order to fend Cloud off. Sephiroth always had the upper hand, but Cloud fought like he had never fought before.

At one point while pushing Cloud back, Cloud backed up a step too slow, and Sephiroth had to replace his katana with his hand against Cloud’s chest, shoving him back a full step before their swords clashed together again furiously.

Cloud redoubled his speed, slid out of the way nimbly, and turned to brace himself against the next onslaught of Sephiroth’s downward swings. He managed to gain some traction by digging his heels into the slippery sand, both hands squeezing the hilt of his sword, his muscles vibrating from the impact. But he held fast, and Sephiroth smiled before lowering his sword.

‘Very good,’ he said. ‘You’re getting stronger.’

‘What can I say?’ Cloud panted out. ‘I’m a quick learner.’ Then without warning, he thrust forward, so quickly and so hard that all Sephiroth could do was lift Masamune in order to defend against the attack. Cloud went on the rampage then, pushing him back with all of his might, regaining his equilibrium and confidence as he advanced, a step at a time.

And once he had established a rhythm that had Sephiroth parrying his flurry of strokes and taking those steps back, he loosened his grip on the broadsword. Sephiroth sensed the change immediately, stepping forward. Even as Cloud took a step back in that minute change of rhythm,he flung his sword away, praying that his confidence in Sephiroth’s mastery of his skill would hold, and that his trust was not misplaced, and that Sephiroth would still pull his punches when it mattered.

In response to Cloud’s disarming, Sephiroth opened his arms immediately so Masamune cleared wide, away from its target, and in that confusion Cloud launched himself at Sephiroth, forcing him to take a step back to brace himself for the added weight on his body. And in that tiny moment of forced confusion, Cloud used all his strength to wrestle the sword out of his hand.

His fingers managed to close over the grip, replacing Sephiroth’s slackened hand. It lasted a short second before Sephiroth recovered, knocked Masamune out of Cloud’s clumsy grip and reclaimed it.

But the damage was done. Cloud dropped to the ground even as Sephiroth shoved him off.

‘I win,’ Cloud said, claiming his victory in harsh, choked pants as he struggled to get air into his lungs.

‘By cheating,’ Sephiroth said, rather coolly.

‘It doesn’t matter. You didn’t specify. I won, because I took Masamune from your hand,’ Cloud retorted. For a moment there, he thought Sephiroth was on the verge of rejecting his victory and would renege on their agreement. But to his surprise, he only smirked.

‘Very well,’ Sephiroth said. ‘If you consider cheating an acceptable method of gaining a victory …’

‘I do,’ Cloud said resolutely.

‘Then a deal is a deal,’ Sephiroth said, finally lowering his katana.

‘Thank you,’ Cloud said simply. They stood facing each other.

‘What would you like to know?’

‘Why don’t you like it when they address you as the emperor?’

‘Because I ultimately see myself as a general. I am the supreme general of the Shinra Empire, and I will live and die by it.’

Cloud considered this. ‘Why don’t you like it when I bring up your past?’

‘I do not like to be reminded of what I have done in order to get to this point in my life,’ Sephiroth answered expressionlessly.

Cloud pushed harder. ‘If you clearly regret what you did, why did you do it in the first place?’

‘I never said I regretted any of it. I said I do not like to be reminded.’ Now there was an icy coldness in his undertone.

‘Why is that?’

‘I made a decision to go against every value and every ideal I was raised to obey.’

A long silence filled the air between them.

‘Would you tell me what happened that day?’ Cloud asked softly.

In that clear, cool voice, Sephiroth spoke succinctly and carefully, never using an excess of words whenever he could. It was almost like he was reeling off an incident report. That was how precise and emotionless he was.

‘It started on the day when I had been assigned to a highly confidential mission,’ Sephiroth began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger! I love you all, thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback chapter.

And it had started quite innocuously too.

The emperor had summoned him into his private office, had him take a seat. Curiously, the missions director of SOLDIER was in one of the seats lining the wall, indicating that he had knowledge of what was to come. Lazard Deusericus did not often sit in on these meetings, preferring to hand out mission briefings from his own office instead. And it was strange too, because the emperor did not do mission briefings, and in fact, never had done a single one with him in the history of his service with the empire.

He sat down, Masamune by the side of his chair, and waited.

Shinra faltered at first, but then began describing the mission to him. The goal was simple, he said. Simply retrieve a high-value target from the reactor in a small town in the region. The reactor had been malfunctioning for quite a while, and the angry townspeople had barricaded the entrance to the reactor and was holding it hostage. Mediators hadn’t been useful or successful, so they decided that a SOLDIER First Class would be the best candidate to complete the mission.

Sephiroth had noted that it wasn’t just a SOLDIER they required. He was the top-ranked general, and they needed him … for what sounded like a simple mission? 

He was to assemble a small, select group of soldiers, preferably another First Class accompanied by a handful of infantrymen, then set out for this town and retrieve the target at all costs. ‘The target is of the utmost importance to us, Sephiroth,’ Shinra had said, nervous sweat visible on his large, shiny cheeks. ‘I can entrust this only to you, my boy.’ He would not say who it was, or even what it was. Deusericus had handed him a folder with exact instructions to reach the target. He glanced at the documents, and committed it to memory.

He had picked Angeal at first, knowing that his friend would always have his back. And while this mission sounded simple enough, it smelled fishy to him. His instincts were never wrong. Angeal had been unavailable, and suggested he take Zack Fair with him, and he agreed. Fair was enthusiastic, followed orders well, and would form another set of eyes should there be some … discrepancies.

They set out for that little town with a deep urgency, and even the high speed startled Fair, who was never one to complain about these things. Within an hour of the mission briefing, they had been transported via military chopper and arrived at the entrance of the town.

Shinra had many of these outpost reactors dotted around the eastern continent, and this one looked no different from the many he had seen. But there was an unknown, high-level target that was currently needing to be retrieved. What was the secret that was hidden beneath this regular-looking reactor in a completely ordinary town? And why this specific bumfuck town out of nowhere?

Turned out it wasn’t an ordinary reactor. In fact, it wasn’t just a reactor. The mayor of the village met them at the entrance. He recognized Sephiroth immediately. Everyone did. He had been the poster boy for the Shinra-Wutai War, and his mug alone inspired a great deal of reassurance in the people. The mayor wasn’t particularly angry or dangerous either, unlike how he had been made out to be. That turned out to be another red flag.

The man was nervous, and worried. ‘General Sephiroth,’ he said respectfully. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve been so concerned about this … situation. We didn’t know what to do, but we’re so glad you’re here now to take over. But I would suggest … that … only those of your men who have the stomach … to enter the reactor come with us. It’s … horrible in there. Horrible business.’

He wanted to see for himself what was so horrible, but he saw the man’s pallor, that genuine fear in those eyes. He took Fair with him, and even the usually irrepressible lieutenant was silent with apprehension.

And it turned out to be worse, much worse.

Those mutilated, horrendously deformed figures in the blue tanks – he could make out the bits left in them that still resembled a human’s. Extra limbs, organs that grew outside of the body in terrible proportions, bulges and lumps and growths where there should not be, skin an impossible, an inhuman color. The scientists that worked in the secret lab inside the reactor had been massacred by the angry, outraged townspeople in a fit of rage, and Sephiroth could not say he blamed them.

He didn’t need those dead scientists to explain to him that they had been doing these terrible experiments on humans, for them to mutate into such inhumanly forms. And they had spared no age bracket. He saw the legs of a child floating in a tank, its upper body so mutated it no longer resembled anything human.

And the middle of the secret reactor-lab, on a raised platform was a metal husk, a mask that covered whatever monstrosity it was from view. This was the source of all the experiments. The mayor, who refused to look at the form, quickly explained that they read through some of the logs left behind by the scientists, determined that they had been infusing live human beings with the cells of this lifeform, and then using mako energy as a sort of catalyst. What kind of madness was this?

This was a horror show, and he wanted no part of it. With his bare hands, he ripped off that metal husk with the faded inscription. It began with J-E, but the rest was faded away. Burned away and damaged when one of the angry villagers had tried to burn it and failed.

J-E …? But did it matter whose name it was? What it was? He decided that it didn’t matter enough to him.

The sight that greeted the three of them was beyond anything they expected. It was strangely humanoid, that lifeform, which both baffled and disgusted him. It was some kind of parasitic lifeform that had corrupted this once-living young woman, he understood from the mayor’s confused ramblings.

This was the high-value target, he understood. He was only supposed to retrieve it, husk and all, and return it safely to Midgar. But this was an atrocity, and abomination. His hand, holding the sheath of Masamune, twitched. It was as if she was calling for him to take action.

At that moment, he received a message on his PHS. Eliminate all civilian eyewitnesses, the message read. Zack’s PHS pinged at the same moment, and he had presumably received the same message.

Next to him, Fair looked sickened. But his face was oddly stoic. He considered discussing their options with Zack, but his eye then caught sight of the tank that was nearest to him. It was smaller than the usual specimens in the other tanks, but this was unique in that it was a weird, overgrown blob. And in the rough shape, protruding from its flank was a small, human hand, perfectly formed. It was so small it could only mean …

It could only belong to an infant.

He realized that there was nothing to discuss.

It was not Zack’s decision, it was his.

Whatever that happened from here on out, he would be responsible, come hell or high water. He kept his back to Zack. ‘Fair.’

There was only silence. ‘Fair!’ he barked.

Zack was startled out of his reverie. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘I want you to take the mayor out of this reactor. I want everyone in this village evacuated safely in 60 minutes. Everyone. Evacuate to the next town over and await my instructions. And not a word of this to anyone at HQ. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, sir!’ Zack seemed oddly relieved to be ordered to leave the reactor. ‘Come on, mayor. The general’s going to handle this.’

‘What are … what are you planning to do?’ the mayor asked fearfully.

‘What should be done in the first place,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I will eradicate this abomination from the world.’

‘Also, in the Shinra mansion … in town,’ the mayor said hurriedly. ‘We found a lot of reports. There’s a whole underground library. Scientific reports and journals, research logs, that kind of thing. We didn’t know what to do with them. But we sealed off the library.’

‘I understand,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I’ll handle it. Fair, take him, and go!’ He heard Fair taking the mayor firmly by the elbow, and escorting him out. As soon as he could hear that they were far away enough, Sephiroth unsheathed Masamune, readied his stance, and plunged his beloved sword into the tank, past the thick glass and into the body of that strange lifeform. The tank shattered immediately, and the structure crumbled down on the ground, water gushing out in every direction. He could smell the liquid of preservation, the heavy stink of formaldehyde mixed into the metallic tinge of mako fluid.

He decapitated the form with one clean slice of his katana, and dragged both the severed head and the body down the steps and off the platform. And in the middle of that lab, he found the switch to shut down life support to all the tanks. He found some matches, set the two parts on fire. The flames were slow to catch, but they began licking away at the flesh slowly, but surely.

He engaged his PHS. ‘Midgar Air Base, One-Niner. This is Sephiroth.’ 

‘Midgar Air Base, One-Niner, awaiting your instructions, general.’

‘I want a Forest Pyre, authorization code Romeo Victor Sierra Two-Four-Two, at this location at 1330. Sending you the coordinates now.’

‘Acknowledged, Forest Pyre, code Romeo Victor Sierra Two-Four-Two, for 1330. Standing by for coordinates.’

Sephiroth lowered his PHS and sent through the information, before a different voice piped through, baffled.

‘Sephiroth, Midgar Air Base, One, Niner. Clarify your position. Did you order a fire strike for your location?’

‘Yes, that is correct. I want this fucking town razed to the ground.’ Sephiroth took a deep breath, pushed past the fury churning in his chest. He had to stay calm, or the madness would consume him wholly. There was work to do. ‘Do you copy?’

‘Copy loud and clear. Be safe, general.’ 

He found the override for the computer system, even while the abomination burned on the tiled ground behind him. His high-level ranking meant that he had the highest clearance, but he was surprised that it even worked here. He set up the self-destruct to go off in twenty minutes. More than enough time for him to leave this place behind, and walk to the edge of town.

He looked up at the tanks. Saw those countless women and men, children and babies that became those mutated forms. How much had they suffered? Had they known at all? Were they still alive?

These were all human beings. They didn’t asked to be experimented on like this. In this fashion.

In a desperate fury, he plunged Masamune into those tanks, again and again, as blue liquid poured out of them, flooding the floors. Glass cracked and shattered, and those pitiful lifeforms ended up in a heap, on the ground, inside those tanks.

In the haze of his rage, he could hear the countdown still going, and the constant warning blaring in the lab. He walked back down, stabbed the brightly burning heap a few more times. It was as dead as he could make it. There was nothing else he could do here.

He wished he could burn away those images on his retinas, but he knew what he saw would stay with him forever. He walked out of the lab, and out of the now empty village.

Sephiroth knew there would be a reckoning. But for whom, he wondered.

He spared a thought for the beings that he had left behind. They had been humans once. They would have their vengeance, and he would seek it for them.

He was en route to the next town over, following Zack’s instructions when he saw the fighter jets overhead, fire-bombing the town. All he could see was the bright orange flames licking away at all the existing town structures, devouring until there was nothing but jet-black plumes of smoke that filled the sky.

Zack met him at the entrance, his usually happy face now grey with worry. ‘Sephiroth …’ he began.

Sephiroth merely waited.

The infantrymen standing next to Zack was pointing his gun at Sephiroth, but his hands were trembling so bad his gun was weaving and bobbing. ‘You’re under arrest, sir,’ the soldier said, in a panicky, confused voice. ‘I’ve been ordered to bring you back to Midgar. The chopper’s arriving in ten. I’m sorry, sir, but please cooperate.’

‘You’ve been court-martialed, Sephiroth,’ Zack said, his shocked voice hoarse.

‘For?’ Sephiroth said very calmly.

‘Desertion. Non-completion of mission. And high treason,’ Zack answered. ‘It must be a mistake. It has to be. It makes no sense. I spoke to them, but they insisted that you be brought back to Midgar first. They know you don’t have the target,’ Zack said. ‘We’ll go back and sort it out, all right?’

‘I’ll go back,’ Sephiroth said. ‘But I want you to stay here. Make sure the townspeople are settled. You have clearance to use whatever funds you need to resettle them. Take as much time as you need. There is nothing back there for them.’

Zack tugged at his arm, even as he turned away. ‘What are you going to do, Sephiroth?’ he asked, fear in his voice. He was right to fear, Sephiroth thought. But not for himself. Zack was a good soldier, and a good man. He would do right by the displaced townspeople. ‘When the fire dies down, I want you to order in an airstrike, with the reactor’s location as your main target, and finish it off with another fire strike. I want nothing left of that place, Zack. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Zack said. ‘And …’

Sephiroth waited.

‘Stay safe,’ Zack swallowed nervously.

Sephiroth nodded curtly.

They were escorted all the way back to Midgar in the military chopper. The whole time, the infantrymen was pointing the gun at him, while shaking uncontrollably. He bore him no ill will. He was only doing his job, after all.

They arrived at the rooftop of the Tower, then down to the inner sanctum of the emperor’s quarters. And only one person sat in there, behind his grandiose desk. Sephiroth sat down in front of him.

‘What have you done, Sephiroth?’

‘Those were human beings, my lord,’ Sephiroth answered. ‘Living breathing human beings that the scientists experimented with. _Your_ scientists. That was nothing short of abominable.’

‘That abomination you speak of is our future, Sephiroth,’ the emperor thundered. ‘We must innovate! This is a new frontier of science. Don’t be close-minded!’

‘What were you planning to do with the results of your experimentation?’ Sephiroth asked.

‘They’ve managed to synthesize it into a serum after they combined the cells with pure mako. It’s stable now, currently in an injectable form, and we’ve already begun phase one of human trials down in the lab. This is the future, Sephiroth. The first wave of trials have already shown promising results.’

‘Results?’

‘Super soldiers,’ the emperor said. ‘One man that can equal hundreds. We’ve lost so many infantry during the Wutai War. They’re hard to replace, Sephiroth. Not everyone can be like you. But won’t you try it, Sephiroth? Imagine being more powerful than you are now. Ten times, a hundred times. The world will be ours, Sephiroth.’

Sephiroth said nothing.

‘Once the human trials are over, we will inject every single infantryman with the serum. And then SOLDIER members, such as yourself. We will have an enhanced, ultra-powerful army. Nothing will stand in the way of the empire. What we can do in ten years, we will be done in ten days!’ the emperor said, and Sephiroth could only see madness in his eyes. ‘Join us.’

He merely stared.

‘I understand your confusion, even your anger. But a few lives given in the name of science … We must sacrifice a little for progress’s sake. I understand your desire to destroy the town, and I forgive you for that. Now, I suppose you destroyed the source of the J-cells?’

Sephiroth did not answer, but the emperor took his silence as assent.

‘I was angry at first, Sephiroth. Very angry. That’s when I summoned you back. But I spoke to Hojo, and he assured me that he has enough cells to proceed with the rest. You see, a single cell is powerful enough to make a serum for dozens. And we have a sizeable amount left. Anything after that, well … we’ll find another way, won’t we?’

Sephiroth nodded. ‘There’s more in the lab, that’s good to hear,’ he said slowly, his mind racing. Fucking Hojo. Of course it had something to do with him. All the fucked-up things always had something to do with him.

‘I knew you’d see it my way, Sephiroth. You’ve always been so intelligent, so good to me. To Shinra Empire. I knew I could count on you. I was so afraid you weren’t going to join us,’ the emperor laughed. ‘Rufus wasn’t so sure, but he’s always been an idiot. I told him, you didn’t have a choice. It’s either that, or a charge of high treason. You’re a soldier at heart, you know what a charge of high treason means to a man like you.’

‘Of course,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I understood the moment I heard I was being court-martialed.’

‘Now, that was all just a threat, you see,’ the emperor said good-naturedly. ‘Got you back quickly, didn’t it?’

‘It did,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Thank you for believing in me, my lord. But I’m afraid your faith in me has been quite misplaced.’

In a single move he unsheathed Masamune and drew it in an arc that loped off the emperor’s neck. He had decapitated him in the way that he had cut off that lifeform’s head. Perhaps there was poetic justice in that.

This was the man who had basically raised him to adulthood. He had been in the employ of the Shinra Empire for most of his teenage years, and had done every dirty job he had been dispatched to do, and had been rewarded appropriately. But this … was beyond his understanding. He would not, and could not.

Behind him, he heard Genesis gasp in shock.

‘Sephiroth, what have you done?’ Angeal shouted.

‘I killed him,’ Sephiroth said. He eyed the still-spasming body, those wide open, accusing eyes, grotesque and evil even in death.

‘You killed our king!’ Genesis whispered. ‘Gods above, why? Sephiroth, explain yourself!’

‘Not right now,’ Sephiroth said calmly. He deliberately kept his back to them. If they felt it was right, and their fealty to their lord demanded it, they could take his life, willingly and without a fight. But no attack came. ‘There’s something else I have to do.’

‘What the fuck are you planning to do now?’ Angeal barked at him, putting a strong hand on his arm, as if trying to restrain him.

‘I’m going to kill Rufus Shinra.’

Angeal’s eyes flew open with shock, and he took a step back. ‘Sephiroth.’

Genesis stepped up, his outstretched hand trembling. ‘Sephiroth, you have to talk to us. We don’t understand, and you … you must! What’s going on? You can see how it looks to us!’

‘I will explain later,’ he said. There’s no time to waste with words. He had to move swiftly, or his chain of actions would destabilize what he had worked so hard to build all these years. Rufus Shinra could not be allowed to ascend – he believed in the same insanity his father had.

‘Rufus? Are you sure?’ Angeal asked, his hand now back on Sephiroth’s wrist. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

Their eyes met, their gazes locked. Angeal’s posed a question, the same one that had emerged from his mouth. He knew what was at stake, and he knew what it would cost Sephiroth.

He nodded, once. ‘I am sure. I have to, Angeal,’ Sephiroth said, so softly it was almost a whisper. Then he straightened. ‘I don’t want you involved, Genesis, Angeal. This is all on me. If you don’t intend to cut me down here, then don’t stand in my way. I promise you, I will explain everything after. But this needs to happen, _now_.’

Genesis breathed deep. He didn’t know what was going on, but even he knew that Sephiroth’s actions must be followed up with another in order to stem the chaos. Sephiroth could see the unreserved trust in his eyes, and he was grateful.

Angeal let his wrist go. ‘Don’t regret it, Sephiroth.’

‘Tell us what to do,’ Genesis said.

Sephiroth had thought about it during the chopper ride back. He knew which targets needed to be destroyed for him to take over. The last thing he needed was for chaos to reign. Not under his watch, if he could help it. ‘I need you to neutralize Heidegger. He controls the army, and he could become a threat to us very quickly. We can’t win him over, that much I’m certain. He’s Shinra’s man, through and through.’

‘Consider it done,’ Genesis said, his hand moving to rest on the pommel of his crimson sword, Rapier. Angeal looked less sure, but he straightened, and followed Genesis out the door.

Sephiroth set off to do what he needed.

He found Rufus Shinra in his own quarters, idly sitting at the balcony, smoking a cigarette. It was a personal weakness of his, he had always said. Sephiroth ordered the attendants and guards to stand down, ignoring their looks of confusion as he strode in and slammed the door behind him.

Rufus glanced over at him, a cloud of smoke wafting around his ears. ‘Hey, Sephiroth,’ Rufus said casually. ‘Just the man I wanted to see.’ He lightly kicked the chair opposite him until it faced Sephiroth. ‘Take a load off, man.’

Sephiroth sat down.

‘Why do you have that serious look on your face?’ Rufus demanded, raising a puzzled eyebrow. ‘Like you shit a brick. Lighten up already, Sephiroth.’

‘You knew about the experiments being done down at the labs, making super soldiers,’ Sephiroth said.

Rufus looked annoyed. ‘Yes, what about them?’

‘You sanctioned them, along with your father.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Rufus said, confused. ‘How did you find out about it anyway? I thought-’

‘And you don’t see anything wrong with it?’ Sephiroth asked.

Rufus leaned back now. ‘What’s wrong with a new generation of super soldiers? Nothing. After all, you’re a mako-enhanced SOLDIER yourself. You get your shots every month. It’s no big deal. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little competition. Don’t worry, I highly doubt they will still be able to beat you. You’re awfully quick with a sword,’ Rufus said wickedly. And that impish grin on his face made Sephiroth’s heart ache a little.

How is it that he had loved this soulless man for so long? He had been devoted to this blond prince, despite his spoiled, pampered ass. But he had a bold personality, and those smug, blue eyes with confidence and arrogance bounding off him in waves. But there was a wicked charisma about him, and he never once looked at Sephiroth like he was intimidated, and Sephiroth had liked that. That boyish face grew into a man’s, and he was beautiful, in his arrogant, princely way.

He knew what Rufus had gotten up to, and had chalked it up to youthful experience. Like the fact that Rufus ordered the mako reactors to work overtime, just so it could produce excess mako that could be distilled into a pure form that was then trafficked underground to be sold to the drug-addled citizens. He plundered the land, so that he could destroy lives to fulfill his greed. Sephiroth had turned a blind eye to it.

Sephiroth had stared at that face once and knew he would follow him whenever he walked. Rufus would be the emperor one day, and for now, Sephiroth bided his time, became as strong and powerful as he could, so he could be the one to protect Rufus and all that the emperor held dear.

But this was the reality – he was a cold, soulless man who spared not a single thought for what had happened in those labs, and the ones down below. He did not care about his people. For so long, he had held this man on a pedestal. A man who believed in a strange, inhumane madness had no place as his king.

‘I will make this world a better place,’ Sephiroth promised. ‘I will create a new legacy on your behalf.’

‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Rufus said, alarmed now.

But Sephiroth wanted to say all he needed before it was too late. ‘I would have done anything for you, but this is too far even for me. My heart will always belong to you, Rufus. I hope you sleep well.’

‘What?’ Rufus dropped his cigarette, got up hastily. Sephiroth caught his arm, drew him into a twisted parody of a lover’s embrace. With a flick of his right thumb, he unsheathed Masamune with his left. She still had the stench of the awful blue fluid. He spun the hilt until it was sure and firm in his palm, and he plunged downwards at an angle, stepping back even as the Rufus’s body jerked forward in his.

Buried in deep he twisted Masamune, as if he could exorcise the blackness from this man’s heart. The spurt of blood from the Rufus’s mouth landed on Sephiroth’s jacket, but he didn’t mind, because if he was choking on it, he wouldn’t be able to speak. It was swift, and the body in his arms sagged in death.

He withdrew the katana from Rufus’s body and caught him. He pressed that still body to his chest, mourning over this life that he had taken. He pressed a kiss to those closed eyes, the long blond lashes brushing those still-rosy cheeks.

Then he laid Rufus’s body on the bed, and exited the apartment. One of the guards gasped as he spotted the blood on his jacket. ‘Lord Rufus!’ he said in alarm.

‘He’s in the bedroom,’ Sephiroth said, then went on his way as the guards and attendants rushed past him.

He managed to make it into the lab before the lockdown was initiated. Without even a word, he swung his sword in measured and careful strokes, cutting down everything and everyone in that lab, be it an innocent assistant or a culpable researcher. It didn’t matter to him who they were, but he knew that they must all be eradicated. Hojo didn’t even blink as the sword came down on him, only cruelty and insanity in his eyes.

Sephiroth was certain that the same was mirrored in his own eyes, because after all, you couldn’t escape the curse of genetics. He was always going to be the man who sired him and gave him life. But he would never be a father to Sephiroth, and Sephiroth felt no pity as the man fell off the chair, his life extinguished like the weak flame of a candle.

He allowed Masamune free rein to wantonly destroy everything in sight – human flesh, or machine, or glass. His beloved katana did not discern between any of them. All of it was to be decimated, destroyed, and annihilated.

He couldn’t burn down this lab as much as he wanted – it was far too dangerous for the inhabitants of Shinra Tower, not to mention the structural damage it could cause. But he had no doubt that if he lived, this lab and everything in it would be destroyed down to the atom in the coming days.

When the lab finally fell silent, and the only thing he could hear was his own rapid breathing, he walked off. He ignored the people that dodged out of his way in sheer panic at his bloody appearance, and they gave him a wide berth, allowing him to proceed unmolested via staircase to the 50th floor.

Lazard Deusericus sat behind his desk, as usual. He looked up when Sephiroth walked into his office. He sighed, removed his glasses. ‘The emperor’s dead. As is Rufus Shinra.’

Sephiroth stood in front of his desk.

Lazard looked at that blood-stained jacket of his, and met his eyes. ‘You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

Lazard sighed.

It was an open secret at Shinra that Lazard was the emperor’s illegitimate son. He would never ascend the throne, not while Rufus was the decorated heir, but there was a place in the empire for him nonetheless. He was a tireless worker, a serious man who took his responsibilities seriously. A good man, a friendly colleague, and a friend once upon a time. He was nothing like his relatives, but Sephiroth knew if he wanted to stabilize his hold over the empire, he would have to destroy the entire dynasty of Shinras to prevent any challenges to his own legitimacy. And Lazard was a clever man who knew that. He had no love lost for his half-brother, or his father.

‘Please don’t,’ Lazard said. ‘I won’t … Whatever you are planning on doing, I won’t challenge it. You will only have my support.’

‘You knew, didn’t you? What was in the reactor?’

‘I had an inkling,’ Lazard answered. ‘I know everything to do with SOLDIER missions, it’s my job. It’s my life. But this … I could only half-guess at it.’

‘And you were the one who suggested me for the job,’ Sephiroth said.

Lazard shrugged. ‘You are the strongest man in SOLDIER. In our empire. I was hoping that you would have the mental fortitude as well.’

‘You were hoping for me to put a stop to it.’

‘Well, hell. Of course! If not you, then who else?’ Lazard shouted. ‘Certainly not me. I’ve been a nobody since I was born. But I knew only you could make the changes. Of course, I didn’t mean for you to kill my father, or my half-brother,’ Lazard said bitterly. ‘But I don’t make the choices, do I? I never have.’

‘You’re right, this is my choice,’ Sephiroth said. ‘But now you have one to make. You could be emperor. They’re both dead. You share their blood.’

‘No,’ Lazard said emphatically. ‘Never.’

Sephiroth stared at Lazard.

Lazard stood fast by his answer, refusing to even consider it. ‘I don’t want the responsibility. It’s never been my destiny,’ Lazard said. ‘It’s never been what I wanted. You want it, it’s yours. I don’t care. I just don’t want to die.’

And despite his logical mind protesting rapidly in his own mind, Sephiroth was so goddamned exhausted. He could have sworn he could still Rufus’s weight in his arms. ‘Then leave Midgar. Leave the empire. I don’t care where you go, but never appear before me again. If you do, then you will die.’

Lazard stood up. ‘Godspeed, Sephiroth.’ He quickly walked around the desk, giving Sephiroth and his sword a wide berth, and toward the exit. At the doorway, he paused. ‘Thank you,’ he said, but it was so faint Sephiroth could barely hear it. He heard those footsteps flee down the hallway, and then disappear into nothing.

The lockdown alarms were still blaring even as the lights in Midgar City began to come on, ushering in the night. He smelled the metallic tang of blood on himself, and could taste the fear in the air as chaos reigned in the Tower.

He had to find Genesis and Angeal, his friends and comrades-in-arms. He would need all the help he could get in order to extend an enforced calm in the Tower, among the citizens who were now his people. They were his before, but never more so than now.

He took one last look at the twinkling lights outside the window, and straightened.

There was work to be done, and the night was still young.


	8. Chapter 8

He stood in front of the full-length mirror in his own bedroom, smoothing down the asymmetrical folded lapel with silver lining, and pinned the Fenrir crest on his chest. He was dressed in a suit of the deepest midnight blue that he knew brought out the color of his own eyes and complemented the cornflower yellow of his hair. His feet were shod in black leather dress shoes, but they were soft and comfortable on the inside, great for walking and dancing; perfect for the night ahead.

Tonight was the benefit ball for the Royal Children’s Hospice, and as new joint patron of the organization, he intended to help them raise an absolute fuckload of money that he knew would go towards an excellent cause. He was to give a short speech tonight, one that he had written himself. Speechwriting wasn’t hard. He had been doing it for years now.

He gave himself one last check in the mirror and walked out of his bedroom, only to see the general emerge from his own bedroom. Since their return from Costa Del Sol a week ago, Sephiroth had surprised Cloud by informing them they were now moving into the empty apartment that was once occupied by the previous emperor.

There had been nothing wrong with Sephiroth’s apartment, but this was on a whole new level. There were three bedrooms. Cloud ended up with the master, an enormous space that came attached with an ensuite bathroom with magnificent teal tiles, marbled bathtub and open rain shower. Everything about the bedroom, from the separate closets to the seating space and the balcony, screamed an opulent luxury that Cloud sometimes struggled to get used to. Sephiroth seemed indifferent to him having that bedroom, even though Cloud insisted he would be fine with something smaller. When he peeked his head into Sephiroth’s room, he saw that it had been converted into a spartan space, one with a bed, a closet, and a workspace. The only special allowance he had given himself was the two hinges on the wall by the bed where the katana could rest.

Despite the presence of two different bedrooms, they mostly spent their nights together in Cloud’s. He had inherited their marriage bed, and it was simply too large for a single person. So after whatever frenzied intercourse they would have in the evening, they would fall fast asleep together. Neither of them minded it especially.

Cloud looked at Sephiroth, whose expression suggested that he had been forced into full military dress. He wore a black dress uniform with rows of horizontal silver braid, epaulettes on his shoulders with silver tassels. Cloud’s own silver lining on his lapel was a nod to his husband’s colors and to reflect a congruence between the both of them. It was a clever touch, Cloud had to admit.

Sephiroth wore the uniform exceptionally well. It showed off his tall, muscular frame, and that silver brought out the best of his long hair and cat-green eyes. But now that gaze telegraphed only annoyance, and the way he snapped on his gloves was another dead giveaway to his current temperament.

He had only known Sephiroth for three weeks, but Cloud felt like he already had a fairly good grasp of his husband’s personality. He was starting to be able to tell his moods. Take, for instance, the gloves. He tended to channel a lot of aggression when he put on and snapped off his gloves. If he was pleased, there was usually a sparkle, a glint in his green eyes, usually accompanied by a small smirk. When he wasn’t, those green eyes were flinty and cold as jade, accentuated by those pale, pale eyelashes and brows. When he was annoyed with Cloud, he tended to use the word ‘prince’ to refer to him with varying degrees of irritation or contempt. When he wasn’t, well, there was almost a fondness in his tone when he called him little cat.

‘Shall we?’ Cloud asked.

Sephiroth only grunted, which Cloud took as assent. They made their way down to the ground floor of Shinra Tower to a waiting car. Cloud noticed that Sephiroth seemed to be gripping Masamune a little closer to himself, more than usual anyway.

‘You don’t like these events,’ Cloud observed.

‘No.’ Sephiroth answered shortly.

Cloud wanted to laugh. The great general Sephiroth, nervous about a charity ball. It was true that these events usually required a lot of socialization and pointless schmoozing, which Sephiroth particularly despised. Cloud wasn’t especially keen on it, but he knew from experience that the faster he sucked it up and went on with the show, the quicker it would be over with.

But he felt a strange kind of protectiveness towards his new husband. ‘It’s all right,’ Cloud assured him. ‘If you stick close to me I’ll help you field the conversations.’

Sephiroth only grunted again.

The charity benefit was held in downtown Midgar City, a large venue they called the Centenary Hall. In front of the entrance, the assembled press were about four or five deep, all reaching a fevered pitch when they arrived, flashing their intrusive lightbulbs as they fought to get in a good photo. Cloud knew the drill. He stood as still as he could, professional smile on his face, eyes open for as long as possible. Next to him, Sephiroth was as stiff as an ice cube, emanating a vaguely malevolent aura. He would probably get away with it because he was fairly photogenic, so Cloud simply stood at his side. When the requisite amount of time had passed, they began walking up the stone steps to the hall.

As the head of the nation, Sephiroth was given the due honor of all the guests in attendance getting to their feet as they walked into the banquet hall. Cloud smiled, nodded politely as the guests clapped at their entrance. The hall was beautifully decorated for tonight. It was all done up in warm golden hues – golden chandeliers, seats with copper satin cushions, yellow and white flowers in giant coppery vases. It was a glitzy event for the rich and wealthy, the famous and privileged, and tonight, Cloud hoped they would be generous in opening their wallets.

They were led to a large central table, where Cloud saw with some relief were their friends, which meant it would help put Sephiroth at ease. Genesis was dressed particularly finely tonight, with a crimson military jacket and golden braids, his red pants so tight on that slim muscular frame they looked like they had been painted on.

A middle-aged man, handsome and confident in a tuxedo stood, and shook Cloud’s hand, guiding him to his seat. ‘Prince Consort, I am Reeve Tuesti, Prime Minister of Shinra Empire.’

‘Very pleased to meet you,’ Cloud said.

‘Likewise. I apologize for my tardiness in greeting you and introducing myself, but I have been busy the last few weeks and I am sure you would not want me intruding in this newlywed period of yours. I trust that you are satisfied with new arrangements so far?’

‘Yes, and I have you to thank for it, prime minister,’ Cloud said graciously.

‘Please, call me Reeve,’ Tuesti said, and shifted his gaze over to Sephiroth. They gave each other polite nods. Then they were introduced to the chairman of the board that worked with the hospice, his wife and a handful of executives. On the other side of the tables were the generals and senior commander of the Shinra army. Zack gave him a cheeky little wink as he flashed him a thumbs-up.

Sephiroth sat down, stiff as a board, never once looking comfortable. Cloud supposed the people were used to it by now. Nevertheless, he gave his arm a reassuring pat as he took his seat.

The festivities began in earnest, with the host giving his opening monologue. Cloud was then invited up to give his speech, which he kept succinct, and delivered with professional warmth. As he sat back down, the food was served. He chatted quietly to Reeve over a delicious cold cream soup, and kept an eye on the performances on stage.

Sephiroth watched all of this with the most impassive, expressionless face ever, and Cloud felt compelled to compensate for this stoicism by ladling out extra charm. When the dancing part of the festivities had arrived, Cloud was already feeling a little tired.

He turned to his husband as the whole room turned to watch the chairman and his wife take to the floor for the first dance. ‘Do you dance, my lord?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth said.

‘Very well,’ Cloud said. ‘I’ll have to make the rounds with the others then.’

As the floor began to fill with the guests dancing to a waltz, Cloud was invited by Reeve Tuesti for his first dance. Reeve was a competent dancer, very precise with his movements, but lacking the passion and energy that Cloud had often associated with dancing in general. He found Reeve to be perfectly pleasant, very interested in what Cloud could contribute to the nation, and he was looking forward to further opportunities to work with him.

His second dance turned out to be a complete surprise. He gracefully accepted Genesis’s hand, and found himself whirling on the dance floor with quite a bit of delight. Genesis was a dramatic individual, very impulsive, but he had a vivacity about him that was hard to not get caught up in. They almost bumped into Zack and Aerith, who were dancing with stars in their eyes as they looked only at each other.

He followed Genesis’s lead perfectly, their bodies in sync to each other and the waltz. ‘We need to catch up sometime, Cloud. We haven’t seen much of you since you’ve returned from your honeymoon.’

Cloud laughed. ‘You’re the one that’s busy, Genesis. I don’t technically have a job, as you know. Just a few charity endeavors here and there, and Jessie’s been trying to slow me down because she’s afraid I’m taking on too much, and too fast.’

‘Jessie’s a good girl,’ Genesis said. ‘Don’t push yourself too hard, Cloud. This is a new life that you’re adjusting to, after all. Now, tell me. Has your husband been treating you right?’ he demanded. ‘If not, you know I’m going to have words with him.’

‘He treats me just fine,’ Cloud smiled. ‘We’re getting to know each other.’

‘I know he seems stand-offish at times …’ Genesis said. ‘You know, like, arrogant.’

‘Mmm. Cold.’ Cloud offered mildly.

‘Precisely,’ Genesis said, chuckling. ‘Kind of rude some times. Who am I kidding? He’s rude all the time. He’s not a talker. But he’s a good man, and he’s a good friend. And I say that with all the confidence in the world. We’ve been friends for a very long time.’

‘How long?’ Cloud asked.

‘Long enough. We were all recruits in SOLDIER. Angeal, Sephiroth and I were first-round recruits. Angeal and I are childhood friends, from Banora. I remember seeing this kid, with his long silvery hair at the trials. It wasn’t that long back then, only around his shoulders. I remembered laughing at it, and Angeal kicked me in the ass. He said that I had no business laughing at someone else’s hair with hair like mine.’ Genesis pretended to scowl. ‘And before you ask, I am a natural redhead. Don’t you say anything about my hair.’

Cloud laughed, eyed that crimson head. ‘It’s perfectly lovely.’

‘I suppose Angeal had a point,’ Genesis conceded. ‘But this kid … man, he might have stupid hair, but he was the fastest, the strongest, the best. He was just … made for SOLDIER. The officers took one look at him and send him through. I won’t lie to you, I hated his guts.’

‘I can see how he could inspire dislike in his fellow recruits,’ Cloud said.

‘Exactly. But we got to know him once we were through the first round, and Sephiroth and I ended up being bunk mates. And man, all we did was fight about who was going to get the bottom bunk. That went on for a while, then I realized that he was just a dude. A weird dude with long hair and insane skills. I thought I could pick up a tip or two, and I guess we all ended up being stuck together.’ Genesis smiled down at Cloud. ‘And here I am, dancing with his beautiful consort.’

‘Thank you,’ Cloud said.

‘You dance very well,’ Genesis said.

‘I’ve been dancing all my life,’ Cloud said. ‘I’ve been getting lessons since I was five. I can dance both ways – leading and following.’

‘Yeah?’ Genesis’s interest was piqued. ‘Show me.’

They switched hand placements, then Cloud began leading the dance. To his delight, Genesis was a good follower, and together they began to sway to the music. Cloud found that he was enjoying himself immensely.

‘Oh, don’t look now, but your husband’s giving us dirty looks,’ Genesis sniggered. ‘He must be so jealous.’

Cloud looked in Sephiroth’s direction when they turned. Sephiroth had his gaze fixed on them, but his expression was as neutral as ever, listening with half an ear to Angeal and Reeve’s conversation.

He smiled at Sephiroth, who blinked once, but did not respond in any other way.

‘He’s not the jealous type, alas,’ Cloud joked. ‘Now, Genesis, I trust that you’re going to be very generous with your donation tonight?’

‘Well, it depends on how entertained I am,’ Genesis teased. ‘The more fun I have, the more likely I’m going to write a check with lots of zeros.’

Cloud smiled, then spun Genesis away from him, and back again into his arms. Genesis laughed with surprised delight, and said, ‘Oh, I like you, prince consort. I really do.’

‘Well, don’t forget that you can show your appreciation by writing a large check. I am the new patron of this hospice after all.’

Later on, he took Angeal’s extended hand, and they danced to trendy, swinging music. Angeal was able to keep up with the steps, despite his bulk, he was light on his feet. They swung around, in great geniality. Angeal was easy to like – he was sweet, straightforward and charming in his own way. When the music slowed, their feet moved more lazily.

Angeal nodded over to Sephiroth, whose silvery head was now bent close together to Genesis’s crimson one, and they seemed to be in deep conversation. ‘You’re getting along with the general?’

‘Most days,’ Cloud said, conceding with a small smile.

‘He might be stubborn and reticent, but do give him a chance. And if there’s anything we can do to assuage your concerns, please let us know,’ Angeal said seriously. ‘As his friends, all we wish is for him to find happiness. I hope you’re happy together.’

‘I’m slowly starting to learn more about him,’ Cloud said. ‘And there’s much I do not know yet. But perhaps in due time …’ he trailed off hopefully.

‘You’re a good match,’ Angeal said.

Cloud looked over at the man that he had married, his hair a fountain of silver obscuring his face, which was devoid of all expression anyway. He was reminded by what Genesis had said earlier about Sephiroth’s hair. ‘He has such long hair …’ Cloud murmured. ‘Is there … a reason for it? I mean, you can pretty much spot him from the next town.’

‘I think that was the point,’ Angeal said, almost gently.

‘Hmm,’ Cloud demurred. ‘I don’t quite understand. I mean, he fought in the Wutai War. Wouldn’t that put him at a supreme disadvantage when he’s on the battlefield? Wouldn’t everyone simply rush him?’

Angeal smiled, spun him. ‘Prince consort, Sephiroth is a very … unique man. Despite all appearances, SOLDIER was all he had once upon a time. He’s firm, he’s tough and he’s strict – but he cares deeply for his men. He can stand on the battlefield and draw enemies to him like no other. And for him, if he could save a life or two by taking on a whole hoard of Wutai troops himself, then the decision for him is clear.’

Cloud suddenly felt abashed. He had never considered it that way.

‘There was one time,’ Angeal began. ‘We were springing a night attack across an open field. There was no way to sneak up on them, not when they had a whole jungle behind them and we had nothing but plains ahead of us and behind us. The only way to come out relatively unscathed was to draw them into an open battle, because there was no way we could fight them in the jungles.’

Cloud listened, rapt with attention.

‘We set out just shortly after midnight. It was dark as hell and we were blind, but Sephiroth led the charge. You should have seen him, Cloud. He was a sight. He led a small group of troops, marched across the open field. All you could see was the moonlight reflected in his blade and that flying hair. It was a wild, windy night, and you could smell rain on the wind.’

‘I was in charge of the flank,’ Angeal continued. ‘But Sephiroth had given instructions to stay our advance until he had drawn out the requisite number of troops. They knew not to underestimate him, but yet they were still tempted. After all, it was only Sephiroth and a handful of infantry. They came at him, fierce and ferocious, and all he did was stand until they were practically in his face.

‘The way he swung that sword … Prince consort, if only you could have seen him. That silver hair was a magnet, a beacon. He was swarmed, but all we could see was that hair. By the time we got to him … well, not to be overly crude, but he had a formed a mountain of bodies around himself. He’s our leader, but he’s always the first one to put himself on the line. He can certainly route a whole battalion himself,’ Angeal continued. ‘There’s no doubt about his capabilities as a swordsman and a general.’

‘You admire him,’ Cloud said.

‘He’s earned it, no doubt,’ Angeal admittedly easily and openly. ‘I’m proud to be his friend, and his subordinate. I have followed him into the shadow valley of death many times, and I will gladly do it again.’

Later, when he was done with dancing, he followed a path down to one of the outdoor balconies. This one was reserved exclusively for the emperor and his consort, Jessie had informed him, should he need some private space to himself.

It had been fun, but the endless throngs of people wanting to talk became exhausting after all. So he relished the opportunity to simply stand there, enjoy the fresh night air and appreciate the close-up view of the Midgar nightscape. From here, he could see the Tower all lit up in its sleek glory.

He had been in a great mood all week, having received an email from his family a few days after they had returned from their honeymoon. The email had been brief, and professional, as befitting communications between a tributary nation to the empire. But Sephiroth had passed on the message to him via Jessie, and Cloud had been grateful enough.

In the letter, Aldrich had written that he hoped that arrangements were working out so far. They were fine back home in Nibelheim, and missed him greatly. They had great news too, which was that his sister-in-law was finally pregnant! Cloud had felt a great joy at that, because for the last three years they had been trying hard to conceive, and despite the best medical help they could access, they were told simply that it would just take time.

The birth of an heir meant that his place in the line of succession would drop further, which was a great relief to him. His new position as the prince consort, not to mention the vast distance they now lived in, meant that he could no longer assist Nibelheim in any of their royal duties. But his mother had told him, that this was his duty now, and his role was to preserve the peace among nations. He had accepted it, made his own peace with it.

Aldrich had briefly extended an official invitation to him to attend the baptism of his first child, and when Cloud had asked Sephiroth, he seemed to have given a sort of tacit agreement with the lack of any real response. In less than a year, perhaps, Cloud would see his family again. And that was something that brought him much joy, stuck him in a euphoric state between his rather satisfactory honeymoon and the fact that he and Sephiroth were finally starting to form a marital bond.

He sensed the movement behind him, knowing with full confidence by now that this were the light steps of his husband, who moved like a cat himself. He stopped next to Cloud, looked down in silent question. Cloud knew that look by now.

‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Just getting some fresh air. It’s been a lovely night so far, don’t you think?’

Sephiroth did not seem to think that required a response other than a nod. Cloud was beginning to get used to this pointed silences nowadays. It wasn’t that Sephiroth was being rude, it was that he simply didn’t speak unnecessarily.

‘I’m just about to head in myself, maybe have one more dance before we call it a night,’ Cloud continued. 

‘You dance well,’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud flushed in pleasure. ‘Thank you. I’ve been dancing for a very long time. Part of my princely training, I’m afraid. You don’t dance?’

‘No.’

‘Why is that?’

Sephiroth shrugged.

Cloud considered his husband. ‘Would you like to dance with me?’ He extended a hand out so boldly that he knew Sephiroth would have a tough time turning it down. And to his immense pleasure, Sephiroth put down Masamune, and took his hand. Perhaps it was the fact that they were out of view of everyone, in their own little private space that Sephiroth felt comfortable enough, safe enough.

It wasn’t a waltz as it was an intimate dance, with Cloud folded in Sephiroth’s arms, heads so close together they were almost touching, their feet following the slow shuffle of the muted music that filtered in through the speakers from within the ballroom.

Sephiroth did know how to dance, Cloud said, but he didn’t do it with any passion or enjoyment whatsoever. It was competent enough, almost workmanlike, and certainly acceptable.

Cloud looked up at Sephiroth, who while was not smiling, glanced back down with such a clear, unmistakable fondness it made Cloud’s heart actually skip a beat.

And instinctively he slammed on the brakes quickly. He was jolted back to the first night they had shared together, where Sephiroth had clearly warned him about falling for him. And Cloud had been so incensed he had said that he’d rather die by his own hand first than fall for Sephiroth.

He swallowed nervously now, his eyes blinking rapidly. His body did not want to part from this intimate embrace, and in fact, welcomed it, relished it. But the alarm bells were going off in his mind, and they were rather hard to ignore.

Cloud stepped away first, unwilling to put up with this farce any longer when his mind was in turmoil. What the hell was he doing? He had already been warned very clearly. This would go nowhere. The best he could hope for was an amicable friendship, and they were well on their way. The last thing they needed now was his feelings complicating things.

‘You have pretty good footwork,’ he said, smiling, but knowing his smile didn’t reach his eyes. So he fell back on what he actually knew, and was confident about. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to go home.’

There was a sly, understanding glint in Sephiroth’s eyes as Cloud telegraphed his lust. 

‘It won’t be long now,’ Sephiroth said. ‘They’re tallying the donations, and once the chairman reveals the final amount, the party’s all but over. We will have to leave first in order for the others to leave, so as soon as it is polite we can say our goodbyes.’

He could not help but feel that the night had taken on a strange pall of discomfort, now that he was painfully, acutely aware of what was happening. Cloud was never one to lie to himself – he was honest to a fault, and falsehood was not an essential building block in his life. He knew he was starting to fall for his husband, and it seemed almost fruitless to resist – except, he had to. He still had his pride, and he refused to knowingly fall for someone who wasn’t prepared to reciprocate.

He wasn’t even able to drum up enough pleasure and enthusiasm when the grand total of donations was announced later in the evening. It was beyond what they had hoped to raise, but he could only plaster a weak smile on his face. He knew he was in trouble, and it wasn’t a good feeling.

The ride back to the Tower was short and silent. They got back to the apartment, and Cloud went into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

His head felt like it was going to explode. What the fuck was he doing? What the fuck could he do next? It had only been three weeks of exposure to his new spouse and he was as good as gone. The man wasn’t even a pleasant individual, for fuck’s sakes. He was cold, curt, and distant. The only thing that was good about that man was that he knew how to swing a knife and look sexy while doing it. He had literally no redeeming value whatsoever.

He had made a mistake forcing Sephiroth to tell him about his sordid past. His story should have demonized him, and instead had the exact opposite effect – it had humanized him. Cloud had empathized. Once he had gotten over his shock and horror and disbelief that he not only had slaughtered his liege and his heir, he had killed his own father as well, Cloud had time to think carefully about Sephiroth’s actions. It was not greed or ambition that had motivated him, but instead, necessity. He had done it because he believed that the only way to get rid of that innate corruption was to start with a clean slate. He hadn’t necessarily agreed with the morality of his actions, but it was ultimately history that no one could erase no matter how much they tried.

Cloud pulled off his heavy jacket, hung it up in the closet. He walked out to the balcony in his white dress shirt and pants, letting the slap of fresh air wake him. Behind him, he heard the door to his bedroom open, and Sephiroth let himself in.

These days, that was their arrangement.

He told himself not to overthink it. To do what he knew best.

Wordlessly, Cloud went to his husband, draping his body over that firm, solid muscle. He got up a little on his toes, and pressed a kiss to that unsmiling mouth, feeling those soft lips relent a little bit. His fingers ran possessively over those broad shoulders, down those bare arms. And he had to tell himself, that no matter what his feelings were – this touching of skins, the bond between their bodies – it held its own sanctity. He had been taught to always be honest to his own needs and desires, and he was glad that this was one lesson he had learned well.

He let his hand roam downward until he linked fingers with that graceful hand, the one that wielded his katana with utmost precision, and led him to their marital bed. Sephiroth followed, and he was led to the edge of the bed before Cloud turned and shoved him bodily onto the mattress and the assorted pillows. His eyes were unfazed, but there was a small quirk to his lips that encouraged Cloud in his boldness.

With Sephiroth in a reclining position, Cloud straddled him, using both hands to pin Sephiroth’s back against the pillows, next to his head. He trailed hot, biting kisses down his neck, and onto those shoulders, marking him as much as Sephiroth would allow. Then, satisfied that Sephiroth would keep his hands there, Cloud let go, and sat up, making sure to give that hard-on against the cleft of his ass a teasing rub.

His fingers delicately trailed down his own shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, taking his time. He watched Sephiroth watch him, desire slowly clouding that green gaze of his, turning into those sly cat eyes that reflected a deep, insatiable hunger.

He allowed his pristine white dress shirt to hang off his arms, partially exposing his naked chest. His fingers dipped down, lower and lower until they were teasing at the clasp of his midnight blue dress pants. Sephiroth’s eyes followed the movement, flicking up with controlled irritation when his fingers stopped short of unzipping the pants that his own erection now strained against.

‘Stop teasing,’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud chuckled slightly. ‘I like seeing you like this,’ he said, then unzipped his pants. He took himself in hand, stroked himself slowly, all the while letting his ass grind lustfully against Sephiroth’s bulge, which was becoming increasingly stiffer.

‘Out of those clothes, little cat,’ Sephiroth commanded, and Cloud obeyed, pulling off his shirt and pants, tossing his underwear onto the floor. He squeezed a handful of lube into Sephiroth’s hands, and guided those fingers gently onto his own ass.

He closed his eyes, let out a long, eager moan when two fingers swept across his skin, slid down to circle the rim before entering him. He ground up against those fingers, squeezing his knees against those powerful, muscular thighs, guiding him to where he wanted Sephiroth to go.

He lost himself in that sweet little intrusive pleasure for a while, and he allowed those two fingers to stretch to three, and suddenly the burn became quite a different sensation. No longer simply pleasurable and ticklish, it had become demanding. And then it simply wasn’t enough. He put his hand firmly on Sephiroth’s wrist, tugged his slick, wet fingers out.

He felt empty, but not for long. Sephiroth’s cock was hard as iron and twice as ready, and Cloud guided him into his ass. He seethed through the pain, panted until he got his breath back. The lower half of his body felt so full, so filled that it was all he could to process that sweet stinging.

When he was ready, he leaned forward, then rode that cock with a mindless frenzy, utterly unashamed about the fact that he was milking that dick for his own personal pleasure. His thighs squeezed and his ass rocked back and forth vigorously. He concentrated on the building of his own orgasm – he wanted, no, needed it to help him wipe out all the unnecessary thoughts in his mind.

It didn’t matter how he felt about the man, or his own growing feelings – this secret, filthy pleasure when their bodies connected was theirs, and theirs alone.

And for that, he told himself that he had to be satisfied. He had to be content with what he had. There was no need to want anything beyond that. 


	9. Chapter 9

He was at the office, as usual, chained to his desk.

He had just finished a stack of reports from the ministry of health and had authorized a couple of proposals to set up rural clinics in the far east of the continent. The proposals had been very specific, in-depth, and well-researched, which meant it took up far too much of his time. But he closed the folders with some satisfaction, and tossed them into the corner of his desk, where the outbox tray sat.

He stretched, noted the time. It was too close to lunchtime to attempt anything too absorbing or involving, so he reluctantly cast his eye over the small stack of thickened cream sheets on the bottom left corner of his desk where Cill had dropped it off this morning. ‘The award certificates for that national scholastic competition needs to be done by today,’ she said.

He absolutely hated signing these certificates. It was such a pointless waste of his time, because each one had to be hand-signed. And as trusted as his secretary was, he couldn’t ask her to forge his signature despite the banality of these tasks. So he sucked it up, pulled the stack in front of him, and brought out his good fountain pen with its deep green ink.

His signature on official reports was a simple S scrawled with the bottom stroke firmly cutting through the middle of the letter. But his ceremonial signature was quite a different thing altogether – because it involved him signing his entire name replete with superfluous flourishes, thus making a simple task a complex one, a rather unnecessary waste of his time.

He ended up completing the whole stack, which he distastefully thrust into the tray on the right. He capped the fountain pen, and got up to pick up Masamune. When he exited his office, Cill looked up in surprise. ‘My lord?’

‘I’m going out for lunch,’ he informed her.

‘Pardon me?’ Her usually professional demeanor translated only confusion. ‘You don’t have any lunch meetings, my lord.’

‘I am aware of that. I am just going out for lunch.’

‘You’re going out for lunch, sir? Um, do you need me to make any arrangements for-’

‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ Sephiroth said. Then after a short pause where she unsuccessfully tried to stop goggling at him, he returned her gaze evenly. ‘Perhaps you should go on your own lunch as well,’ he said.

‘Right,’ she said, trailing off. ‘Um … did you want me to contact General Rhapsodos or General Hewley, see if they-’

‘Go to lunch, Cill,’ he said pointedly.

She looked even more baffled. ‘Very well, my lord. Uh … have a good lunch?’ she waved inanely, then put her hand down quickly when she realized what she was doing.

He walked out of his office before she could say anything else. In the elevator he hit the button for the 45th floor. When the doors opened and he walked down the hallway, there was a surprised hush that followed him. This he was used to.

He strode across the multiple cubicles and the offices, taking the path down until he hit the exact spot where there was a glassed corner office, the walls painted in soft blues. The door was open, and the man he was looking for was sitting in one of the couches, skimming through a couple of pages that were stapled together. He was dressed neatly in a suit of dark blue, his legs crossed primly and his posture straight. A pen dangled loosely in his right hand, and he seemed to be making corrections, so it probably was a speech of some kind.

He didn’t look up when he sensed movement, but only said, ‘Hey, Jessie, could you get-’ His head looked up rather swiftly as he stopped midway. At first his expression registered surprise and puzzlement, then it melted away into a smile of pleasure. ‘Hello.’

‘Hello,’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud got to his feet. ‘What brings you down my side of town?’ he asked, an easy little smile around those lips.

‘Lunch,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Let’s go.’

Cloud quirked an eyebrow, looking unsure. ‘You want to have lunch? With me?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The car’s waiting downstairs.’

Cloud put his papers away on the work desk, and together they went downstairs into the waiting car. He turned to Sephiroth. ‘Sorry, I’m a little confused. We didn’t make plans to have lunch today, did we?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth answered. He could see those blond eyebrows knit together, and those eyes take on a stubborn little glint. Sephiroth was feeling charitable, and decided to spare his spouse the frustration. ‘I thought it might be nice for us to have lunch together.’

‘Because …?’ Cloud asked.

Sephiroth shrugged. ‘You’ll see.’

Cloud muttered something unintelligible, which Sephiroth ignored. Instead, he watched as the car took them straight to what used to be the Midgar Slums deep in the heart of the city. He could only feel Cloud’s bafflement grow, but it was clear the moment their feet brought them to the little hole in the wall.

‘The Wall Market,’ Cloud breathed. Then rather excitedly: ‘Are we eating here for lunch? Do you think they have the Nibelheim stew today?’

Sephiroth had been hoping for exactly that.

They opened the door and walked into loud, frenetic chaos. Unlike that night when they had visited the restaurant for an early dinner, the place was now packed to the gills. Sephiroth tried to conceal some of the dismay he felt as his gaze scanned the busy restaurant and found that there was no room. And besides, he hated the very idea of needing to sit that closely to the patrons of the restaurant.

‘It’s them!’ One man, in the group closest to him, goggled and pointed at them. And a sudden hush fell over the crowd before the phones started coming out and pointed at them.

‘It’s really them!’ A woman said, hand to her mouth in a shocked gasp. ‘Oh dear gods, he’s even hotter in real life!’

There was an obtrusive presence at his elbow. ‘My lords!’ the man named Jimmy said. ‘You’re back again! So quickly too! I am so honored.’ His voice shook.

‘It’s good to see you again, Jimmy,’ Cloud answered, warmth in his tone. ‘Any chances of us securing a table for two, then?’

Jimmy’s face fell. ‘My lords, there’s nothing left! Oh, if only you had called ahead.’ Suddenly he brightened. ‘If you don’t mind, my lords, how about my office? It’s in the back of the kitchen, and at least when you’re there you’ll have some privacy!’

Sephiroth was about to turn around and leave when he considered that notion. It would work, he thought. Jimmy’s office was out of plain sight, and with the door closed they could have their private conversations instead of being listened to or watched by these curious strangers.

‘Show us,’ Sephiroth commanded, and Jimmy led the way. They weaved past the small but bustling kitchen, the staff erupting into gasps of shock. Sephiroth felt irritated. Why were his people always so surprised to see him? It wasn’t like they weren’t aware that he lived in the same city.

‘You’re doing a roaring trade,’ Cloud said from in front of him. ‘Quite a difference from the last time we visited, Jimmy. Glad to see business is doing well.’

‘It’s all thanks to you, my lords. News spread quickly of your visit, and by the next day everyone wanted to see where the great general and his consort have dined. And while they were here, they ordered the food, of course,’ Jimmy beamed, his head bobbing enthusiastically.

Luckily, the office was clean and fairly tidy. Jimmy swept all the papers and books off his desk and stacked them on the filing cabinet. As they sat themselves down on his chair and the single visitor’s chair in the poky little office with the fake potted plant in the corner, Jimmy rushed back in, sprayed some liquid on the table and wiped down the desk surface.

He handed them each a tacky, bound plastic menu. It was the same one as the last time, except this one had a few more separate pages, each as garish and colorful as the other. He was slightly bemused to see that there was apparently something new called the ‘General’s Dinner Set’, but Cloud seemed tickled instead.

‘I was wondering if you have any more of the Nibelheim stew, Jimmy,’ Cloud asked.

‘Ah, of course, my lord. Anything for you. Also, we’ve put something new on the menu as well, I thought it might possibly strike your fancy.’ He pointed downwards on the menu.

‘Nibel Ginger Cake!’ Cloud’s voice went up a notch, suffused with a great deal of enthusiasm. ‘Sold, Jimmy. Give me a serve of that.’

Sephiroth allowed Cloud to order for him as well, and then when Jimmy left, closing the office door behind him, Sephiroth finally relented to dropping his guard a little bit. He balanced Masamune on her tip, leaning her by the side of the table.

‘So what’s this all about?’ Cloud asked, but now he seemed cheerful and upbeat, compared to his earlier confusion.

‘Nothing,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Can’t a man have lunch with his spouse? I was aware that you enjoyed your visit here the last time, so I thought that this might be the place to visit again.’

Cloud said nothing, his cheeks pinking up as the only sign of his pleasure.

They spent the rest of the lunch in a lazy haze. He knew that there was a large amount of work waiting for him back at the office, but that was nothing new. He felt safely ensconced in that tiny, airless little office space. The food that was served was hot and delicious, salty and rich, as good as any food that was served inside the Tower. They spoke about everything, and nothing.

He watched Cloud happily devour the cake that had been placed in front of him. The ginger cake, Sephiroth recalled Jimmy saying. It was a lovely shade of golden-yellow, moist and heavy with what tasted like ginger syrup. It was sweet and spicy at the same time.

And this time, when Jimmy presented the bill, Sephiroth was ready. He removed the handful of bills from his pocket, and placed them on the tray. Cloud must have been in a good mood, because he kept up the mindless chatter all throughout their car ride back to the Tower.

‘Let me walk you back to your office,’ Cloud said, a tiny smile dancing around the corners of his mouth. ‘As thanks for the wonderful lunch.’

They took the elevator up to his floor. When they walked in, Cill was watching them. ‘A package has arrived for you, my lord,’ she said, after greeting the both of them. ‘I’ve had them leave it on your office desk,’ she said.

‘How are you, Cill?’ Cloud asked warmly, in his usual way.

Sephiroth walked into his office, looked at the enormous rectangular package that was wrapped in brown paper. The note on the package read:

_My lord,_

_We hope you enjoy your purchase. Please let us know if this weapon is satisfactory for your needs._

_Sincerely,_

_The Armory_

Cloud had just finished his conversation with Cill and had poked his head into the office. ‘I’ll see you tonight, then? What time can I expect you?’

‘Come in for a moment,’ Sephiroth said. With a puzzled smile, Cloud walked up and eyed the package on the table.

‘What’s this?’

‘It’s for you,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Go on, open it.’

‘Me?’ That seemed to startle Cloud. ‘It’s for me?’

‘Yes. I found it during one of the routine inspections of the armory, and I thought it might suit your needs.’

Cloud’s fingers untied the white string wrapped around the bulky, cumbersome package, and ripped through the wrapping to reveal an assortment of blades in a polished bamboo box. The hilt of the sword was a crimson leather guard. The metal edges and surfaces of each of the six blades were shiny and sharp.

‘What is this?’ Cloud’s voice was quite taken aback.

‘She doesn’t have a proper name, but they called her the Fusion Sword. Each of the six blades can be used separately, but they can be combined into one.’ Sephiroth picked up the main blade which formed the base for the rest, and assembled them as he recalled how when the master armorer down at the 15th floor had shown him.

When he had come across it, it had piqued his interest. The master armorer had explained the uniqueness of the sword to him. Six unique blades, some similar but never identical. It had inexplicably reminded him of the man he had married.

Cloud had multiple facets to his personality – each as different to the rest. He could be so hot-tempered, but then so charming another second. Hot and horny as fuck, then cold enough to freeze him out when he was angry. The way he could light up with joy, and the way those beautiful blue eyes could become stormy with frustration.

Sephiroth could tell that he had a lot of untapped power, and a will as strong as iron. The Fusion Sword would be perfectly complementary to his growing strength and skill, and with that thought in mind, Sephiroth had put in an order for the blade. He had been considering for some time now about commissioning a sword for Cloud, so that he could use something other than the standard army broadsword.

‘It’s … beautiful,’ Cloud said, his eyes gleaming with an excitement that Sephiroth had never seen before. ‘This is … this is for me?’

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I believe it’s best for you to spar with your own weapon. That way, you learn with it, grow with it. The broadsword you used previously was useful, but you require something more finessed that will complement your strengths and enhance the power you currently have. This will do nicely.’

‘It’s a lovely gift that you’ve given me,’ Cloud said slowly pulling apart the blades of the sword and then reassembling them. He hefted the weapon, gave it a few experimental swings, and gripped it in his hand. ‘It feels good,’ he said. ‘I really like it.’ 

He looked up at Sephiroth, a shining kind of joy emanating from his eyes. ‘Maybe I’ll finally beat you this time,’ he teased. ‘Want to go a couple of rounds on the 49th floor?’

‘What, right now?’ Sephiroth asked. He thought about the pile of folders on his desk.

Cloud smiled at him, waiting patiently. He didn’t push, and yet, Sephiroth, for the first time in his life, in the face of that cheerful optimism, actually had the trouble saying the word ‘no’. So instead he said, ‘Just a short spar, then.’

Cill looked up expectantly as they walked out of the office.

‘We’re just going to have a quick spar,’ Cloud informed Cill. ‘I’ll have him back here in no time.’

Cill seemed stunned. ‘Er … yes, sir. Enjoy, my lords.’

There were no available training rooms on the 49th, but he knew his presence there had a mystifying effect on the occupied rooms. He stood in front of his preferred training room, arms crossed over his chest, and waited. A minute later, the three Third Class Soldiers scurried out, bowing hastily.

He programmed the reality setting as the beach, because it somehow reminded him of the sandy beaches of Costa Del Sol. He had lost count of how many times they had sparred on the beach then retreated to the coolness of the villa to pound the hell out of each other on the bed. Despite the unfamiliarity of it all, he had come to relax and enjoy it.

Cloud was assembling the Fusion Sword rather enthusiastically, his fingers running carefully over the blade with such fondness he was almost caressing it. Sephiroth watched him for a while, even though Masamune was unsheathed and ready in his hand.

That blond head was bent, his gaze focused firmly on his new sword. Sephiroth felt absurdly pleased, simply because his gift had seemingly found its mark. He wasn’t a gift-giver, not usually, but when he had seen the sword, his mind had considered how much it had suited his husband.

He was growing rather fond of his consort, Sephiroth reflected. When he wasn’t pissed off at him, he had a rather pleasant personality. He was insatiable in the sack, hot as fuck, and certainly was opinionated and capable out of bed. It was natural that they were starting to draw close to each other. And while perhaps he didn’t entertain the idea of falling in love, he certainly would like to enjoy an amicable friendship with his spouse, and it seemed like they were well on their way.

When Cloud was finally ready, he lifted his sword. ‘It’s a comfortable weight,’ he said, smiling in satisfaction. ‘Come on. I’m ready.’

Sephiroth lifted Masamune, swung it downwards. He enjoyed sparring with Cloud, who while wasn’t the best at it, had a shrewd determination and a powerful resilience that drove him forward again and again.

He noticed that Cloud took to his new sword like a duck to water, wielding with an unexpected finesse. But he was not surprised. Cloud was a quick learner, and the Fusion Sword was a high-quality blade made of the finest metal, its expert craftsmanship apparent in its fluidity of movement and ease of handling. As his opponent, Sephiroth could feel that Cloud’s strokes were swifter, and heavier at the same time.

He noted the small shadow of a smile on Cloud’s face, mirrored the one on his own. He easily deflected Cloud’s swing with a flick of his wrist, and turned the sword so it faced Cloud instead, and thrust forward.

Six hours after their intense sparring session, Sephiroth could still feel the aftereffects on the brutal training session.

There was no other way to explain it. Even though Cloud was very green compared to the rest of the sparring partners Sephiroth usually had, there was no denying that Cloud was the only one who could go toe-to-toe with him, like no one ever could. He had shades of Angeal’s brute strength, Genesis’s versatility, and Zack’s enthusiasm. But his determination outshone even the best of them, and despite his current deficiencies, he more than made up for it through sheer willpower.

And that specific rush of endorphins that accompanied his usual spars with Cloud was something that he had grown familiar with. Perhaps their now-established physical bond assisted with the feeling of wellbeing and security whenever they spent time with each other.

He worked through the late afternoon and the night, long after Cill had left the office for the night.

The main issue that was currently occupying most of his time now was the shutdown of reactor 2. It had gone as well as could be expected under the circumstances, and the teething issues were currently being ironed out. That meant almost a new report every day, on his desk, pertaining to the reactor shutdown alone. Clean up of the old, now disused mako reactors was nothing but a pain, but he had learnt from prior experience that the closer he kept tabs on it, the better the outcome.

By the end, he was both exhausted in mind and body. And it helped that he looked forward to returning home to his apartment. He shut the lights in his office, locked the door behind him. Then he began the solitary trip back to his new apartment now on the 65th floor.

He let himself in through the door, dismissing the main cadre of attendants for the night, leaving only the night guards on duty. He activated the locks, and then strode down the hallway.

He followed the sweet, subtle hint of magnolia, and ended up finding his spouse on the balcony.

Cloud was in a familiar position, leaning against the banister, spiky head pillowed over the arms stretched across the surface. Sephiroth often found him there, dozing as he waited for Sephiroth’s return. He liked the breeze that ruffled through his hair, and it often calmed him enough to send him into a drowsy state.

Sephiroth leaned against the doorway, watching his steady breathing, relishing the quiet calm in his home. It was unexpectedly pleasant to have someone awaiting his return in the evenings, he admitted to himself. It was an idea that he had never once considered, but it proved to be a surprisingly satisfactory aspect in his new life.

He rested his katana against the wall, next to the shiny new Fusion Sword. And as quietly as possible, he stepped up behind his sleepy little cat, curled his arms around that slim torso. He was slowly gaining some muscle, Sephiroth noted.

Cloud stirred, mumbled a sleepy hello to him.

He bent his head, pressed his lips against that vulnerable stretch of skin between neck and shoulder. Licked it experimentally, then dented the soft flesh with his teeth. It elicited an aroused moan, and Sephiroth knew that was enough to rouse him to full awakening.

His fingers slid down Cloud’s shirt, running hands all over that bare, warm chest. Could feel those soft nipples, standing at attention. He pulled off the shirt that clung to the pliant little body in his arms. The belt buckle came apart, and pants unbuttoned. It fell into a pool at their feet, and Sephiroth kicked it away.

He let his hands cup the naked bottom underneath the soft cotton underwear, then ripped it away so swiftly that he could only hear Cloud’s swift intake of breath. Naked and needy, his skin slowly heating – that was the way Sephiroth liked his consort the most.

So he took his time kneading the flesh under his fingers, teasing the flawless skin with his teeth and tongue, until Cloud was writhing with a wordless desire, desperate and ready. ‘We’re on the balcony,’ Cloud panted out when Sephiroth’s hand curled over his stiff erection with enough pressure to probably make his eyes cross. ‘We could be seen.’

‘I don’t care if the whole world sees you like this,’ Sephiroth said brusquely. ‘You belong to me, and I want you here, and I want you now.’

Cloud moaned.

Sephiroth let his hands wander down those round globes of firm flesh, let his fingers work at the hard-on that now curled towards Cloud’s flat stomach. He could feel Cloud buck in his hands, hips swaying lasciviously, asking for more, more. He arched his body backwards, trying to curl into Sephiroth, his arms reaching backwards to clutch at his hair.

He would have none of it. He thrust his fingers against Cloud’s, linked them together, and forced them onto the banister of the balcony, held them there. ‘Lean forward,’ Sephiroth commanded him, and with a shiver Cloud complied.

The line of his back was slender and delicate, with only moonlight illuminating the paleness of his flesh, but there was no denying that he was a man, through and through. His flesh did not carry the softness and roundness of a woman’s, instead, was muscular and firm, undeniably strong and beautiful in their own way.

But that ass, so willingly offered up – that was his for the taking, and Sephiroth clearly knew it. He let his finger trail downward, with the lightest of touches, feathering down, down, until it slipped into that soft, tight little pucker that he knew without a shadow of a doubt had already been well-prepared and ready. His index finger was sucked into that little vortex of secret pleasure, and those muscles clenched and tightened around the invasive digit until it slowly loosened. The second finger followed, and then a third, ever so languidly.

Sephiroth waited. He was a patient man, and he liked to see this beautiful man vulnerable and wanting under his various filthy ministrations. He didn’t need to wait long, because the longer he scissored his fingers and stretched, curling and thrusting into that willing hole, those dirty little moans started to break up into whimpers.

Cloud raised his head back up, tried to buck against him, but Sephiroth only redoubled his grip on those hands, keeping them on the banister, adding a punishing little nip on the nape of his neck as a stern reminder.

He pulled out his fingers, replaced them with his cock. Used his hands to spread his thighs apart, fingers gripping the side of his hips firmly. The little cry from Cloud thrilled him, and he snapped his hips forward, thrusting in brutal strokes that had Cloud clutching and clawing onto the surface of the balcony wall so he didn’t end up being slammed into it.

There was a strange power in the air, with Sephiroth standing behind him, fully clothed, using his cock to give all that it could to the beautiful, writhing naked figure in front of him, so openly surrendering to his own desires that he allowed his helpless gasps and moans to fill the night air.

But even though it appeared that Sephiroth had the upper hand, he felt like he was on the back foot to Cloud’s desires. It was he who led them down the path of pleasure, his entire being hurtling towards the fulfilment of his own pleasure that Sephiroth found himself caught up, led along until the wave crested over him, until he was a drowning in nothing but sensation. It was almost humbling in its own way. 

He pulled out and spilled himself all over that beautiful moonlit back, his own lungs burning as he sucked in air through his nose. He pressed a kiss to the exposed shoulder, and supported that sagging weight in his arms.

He knew Cloud well by now, remembering that after an especially intense bout of sex, he liked drifting off into sleep, neglecting the need to clean himself up. With a resigned sigh, he turned Cloud to face him, then lifted him up into his arms.

Cloud murmured sleepily.

‘It’s getting cold out here. Come on, don’t fall asleep on me yet,’ Sephiroth said. But he carried that weight into the bedroom and laid him on the bed, where he immediately curled onto his side, folding his hands together and under his cheek.

Sephiroth cleaned him up briefly with a warm cloth, and he never once woke. Sephiroth slid into the bed, under the cool sheets, on his side of the bed. Then he waited for a whole minute.

Cloud turned, flung his arm onto Sephiroth’s chest. There it was, he thought. His husband was a terrible sleeper, always tossing and turning and taking up space. When they first began sleeping together a month ago, Cloud was always curled up on the edge of the bed. But inch by inch, he began to colonize the bed, until he ended up fully invading Sephiroth’s space.

He was a heat-seeking missile, and Sephiroth learned that it was easier to give him what he wanted than to endure those assaulting limbs in his face in the middle of the night. He gently turned Cloud over to his side, locked him in his embrace, and let those hips curl into his.

Then he closed his own eyes, and drifted away into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi reader, here's to hoping you keep safe and healthy at this time. 
> 
> Just a quick note: some of you have already guessed there is some hurting coming, and you're just about right. The plot thickens! There's going to be angst and heartache and hurt, all the nice things that make you go ouch. It starts from next chapter onwards. 
> 
> If this is not your cup of tea, then stop now, and resume at the last two chapters when it eventually gets published. Or you could literally stop at the end of this chapter and let your mind conjure up a nice ending for the both of them. I've left it hopeful and open-ended. 
> 
> If you don't mind the hurt and the feels, then keep going. 
> 
> Either way, thanks for reading. Love you all.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite how he had warned himself over and over to be careful, it felt like he was heading towards an inevitable fall. He knew what it was like – once you lost your balance, you could never regain equilibrium. You would take the long fall down, down, until you hit absolute rock bottom.

He was a grown adult, he told himself. Not a teenager with fancy ideas of love. But those words by the brothel madam came back to haunt him again and again. They had established a firm, unassailable physical bond that began and ended with mutual pleasure. But now, the emotional bond was beginning to form, and while he had yearned for it once upon a time, Cloud did not know if he wanted it anymore.

He knew he was being a coward, which was strange, because it was never in him to run away from anything. He knew Sephiroth cared for him, was even fond of him – that much was obvious. Sephiroth enjoyed him as a sparring partner, and they tried to have a morning spar every couple of days. He even gifted him with the beautiful Fusion Sword, which Cloud was utterly grateful for.

And yet … yet there was something holding back the both of them. For Sephiroth, his love once upon time had been tragically misplaced, and had ended in utter catastrophe. When Cloud had listened to Sephiroth recall his story in his usual stoic, factual manner, those cat-green eyes had softened with a sadness that seemed both haunted and spoke volumes of his regret whenever he had mentioned Rufus. Even though he hadn’t put it in those exact words, Cloud knew instantly that Sephiroth had loved him.

It had occurred to Cloud that this was a strange kind of irony – they had both been connected to Rufus in such a strange, fateful way. Cloud had dreamt about him when he was younger, and Sephiroth had loved him from a distance. Yet none of it had eventuated, and Rufus was now dead, and the two of them had ended up with each other instead.

And for Cloud, well, it was obvious enough. He was afraid of loving a man who would not, could not love him back. He was no glutton for punishment, and the thought of being in a wildly one-sided, unrequited relationship terrified him. Sephiroth already had the upper hand in their relationship – Cloud might have been royalty, but Sephiroth was the emperor, so to speak. He was the general, indefatigable and undefeatable, second to no one. Cloud was merely a tribute. He also often wore his heart on his sleeve, and Sephiroth’s usual demeanor was cold and distant, very rarely letting his guard down.

A man like that did not fall easily, and he was clearly not interested in doing so.

Cloud didn’t want to spend the rest of his days for pining for something he couldn’t have, and he certainly had too much pride to wait endlessly in hope for a reciprocation of his feelings.

And yet it was physically impossible to put distance between him and his spouse. Sephiroth was swamped with work, yet often made time for him at least a couple of times a day. Sometimes it was at their morning spars, sometimes at lunch. But every night, without fail, he would return to the apartment, and there was a lovely predictability in that that pleased the both of them.

That morning they woke up for a run in a public park not too far from the Tower. Yes, people pointed and stared, but for the most part, they were left alone. Cloud was too busy trying to keep up with Sephiroth to be distracted by anyone else. Like his swordsmanship, Sephiroth was clearly at the peak of his prowess, and his physical stamina reflected that. His long legs ate up the distance, his stupidly ridiculous beautiful hair flying obediently behind him like a cape. Cloud panted like a dog in the heat, frantically gulping air like a man on his last breath. And yet Sephiroth didn’t even open his mouth, let alone change his expression. He looked down at Cloud, who struggled to keep up next to him, and all he could see was that blank, cool expression he once thought bordered on contempt.

But he knew now there was more, more than contempt or arrogance. Cloud didn’t know what it was exactly, but he knew only that there was more beyond what he had first surmised. And that was dangerous, because it made him want more.

By the time the sun was firmly up in the sky, they made their way back to the Tower, jumping into the training room even as sweat was still cooling on their bodies. Sephiroth had programmed a rather unusual setting, but when it materialized Cloud recognized it instantly. ‘Mt. Nibel Pass,’ he said. He had trekked those grounds more often than he could count. He knew the paths like the back of his hand.

Sephiroth stared up at the rocky crag of a mountain jutting into the sky, its jagged edges both beautiful and formidable at the same time. It was set on a clear spring day, with sparse tufts of green sprouting at every corner. The ground was uneven and rough, the passage tight and narrow, and Cloud knew here he would have to be careful with his footwork.

He picked up the assembled Fusion Sword and breathed as the weight settled in his hand. It felt light, and familiar. Cloud knew he would grow to love this sword, not only for its expert craftsmanship, or that it swung swiftly and cut sharply, but that when she was in his hands, it felt _right_. Like he had had her all his life.

Sephiroth’s form was marvelous, as Cloud had learned a long time ago. He stood, back straight, posture relaxed and ready, Masamune in his left hand, feet slightly apart. He looked like he was merely standing there, but Cloud knew already that his weight had shifted to those formidable thighs, the balls of his feet ready to spring forward or back, those arms deliberately held loosely to facilitate quick movement.

Cloud walked up slowly to him, lifted his Fusion Sword in warning. ‘Are you ready, or do I have to send you an invitation?’

The tiniest, smallest smile appeared on Sephiroth’s beautifully sharp face, those pale eyebrows lifted in amused challenge. Then he lifted his arm, and charged forward.

Their busy morning ended with Cloud being nailed against the wet shower wall, water pounding down at them from the powerful rain shower overhead. Sephiroth gripped him by his thighs, pushing him back, thrusting into him brutally.

Cloud could feel everything – that fullness deep inside his ass, that slap of the pain and pleasure as Sephiroth’s cock penetrated him, pulled out, in and out again and again and again. He could feel his own hands on his cock, rough, with no finesse whatsoever, stroking frantically and impatiently. The shower was warm, but he was overheating, and that sensation in his belly building up until those waves of pressure crashed over on him.

He threw his head back hard, the back of his head smashing against the shower tiles, his eyes rolling closed with senselessness. Those keening moans that had emerged from his mouth now settled into a harsh panting. Wrapped in his arms, Sephiroth’s thrusts were growing erratic, the steady rhythm now de-escalating as he plunged towards his own orgasm.

Cloud held him close, loving that warm hard body in his arms, fucking his insides with a brutal power that knocked them both to the ground as their knees weakened. He draped his wet face over Sephiroth’s shoulder, peered at those dark silver strands, now heavy with water, hanging over his back, pooled on the floor around them.

They held each other like that for a while, shuddering in the afterglow, a lazy pleasure that now twirled and danced inside of their sated bodies. Cloud’s thighs were trembling from the exertion, and if he could just close his eyes and go to sleep right now in that shower, he would simply lay down.

But they just managed to get to their feet, hobbled off to their respective towels. As soon as his body was dry in the most cursory manner, he tumbled onto their bed. Sephiroth watched him as he got dressed. ‘You’re back in bed,’ Sephiroth said.

‘You’re damned right I am,’ Cloud mumbled against his pillow. ‘I’m going to have a nap.’

‘It’s nearly noon,’ Sephiroth said.

‘Yup,’ Cloud answered sleepily. ‘Perfect time for a midday nap.’ He trailed off, and briefly only surfaced when Sephiroth leaned over, his long curtain of hair hanging over him, those silver tendrils tickling his cheek.

‘Have a lovely nap,’ Sephiroth whispered, but Cloud couldn’t be sure. He had drifted back to sleep.

He eventually made it into his office. It was half-past two by then, and after a light lunch, he got down to his work. Jessie briefed him on his upcoming schedule for the next week, and then he set to drafting a couple of speeches for the events that he was due to attend.

It was his usual habit to write his own speeches, and he preferred it that way. His speeches weren’t the stuff of legends, and were often more mundane and banal than anything else, but he felt that by writing it himself, he gave it a personal touch, and the words rolled off his tongue a lot more naturally. And after ten years of writing his own speeches, it didn’t take him very long at all.

He was editing through his finished speech when a movement outside his glass window caught his eye. Sephiroth stood there, katana in his hand as usual. Cloud’s smile came quickly and easily when he sighted his husband, but it melted away hesitantly.

Something was wrong, Cloud thought to himself. Sephiroth did not look like his usual self. Instead, his posture was stiff, the hand clutching Masamune was squeezed tightly, his expression colder and more intense than he had ever seen before. His posture was alert, and his lips in a tight line.

He immediately got to his feet even as Sephiroth walked in after briefly issuing instructions to Jessie, who sat back down at her own desk, uncertain confusion on her face. ‘Sit down,’ Sephiroth said, his instructions brief and brusque, almost verging on a command.

Cloud’s body obeyed automatically. Sephiroth closed the door behind him, strode over and around the table to stand in front of Cloud. He placed his sword against the desk, then got down one knee. ‘Little cat,’ he began, his voice abnormally gentle.

Now Cloud knew that there was definitely something wrong. His heart began pounding in his ears. ‘What is it?’

‘I need you to stay calm,’ Sephiroth said quietly. They were so close, but barely touching. Cloud’s hands shot out automatically, and gripped Sephiroth’s slender fingers in his.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘An envoy from Nibelheim has arrived. His airship entered Midgarian airspace a few minutes ago and landed at the air terminal. I had Fair escort him up to our apartment, and he’s probably waiting for us there already. Right now, I would like you to come with me, up to our apartment.’

Cloud let Sephiroth draw him to his feet, confusion and anxiety equal parts drenching him in a fearful bafflement. ‘Who is it? Why are they here?’

‘It’s a personal matter. For you,’ Sephiroth said, in the gentlest voice Cloud had ever heard from him. ‘It’s best if we do this at home, little cat.’ The hand at Cloud’s elbow was gentle but firm, guiding him out of the office and across the lobby to the elevators.

They waited in silence, all the while with Sephiroth’s hand still at his mid-back, the pressure both reassuring and unrelenting. As the elevators moved up to the floor of their apartment, Cloud cleared his scratchy throat, now dry with fear. ‘Who is the envoy?’

‘Vincent Valentine. I believe he’s on the Nibelheim small council,’ Sephiroth answered, but volunteered no other information.

Vincent was an advisor on his brother’s small council, Cloud thought. He was a trusted mentor to Aldrich, and had a wisdom beyond his years. Growing up, Cloud knew to trust Vincent’s judgment, and sound advice. He was also a close family friend to the Nibelheimian royal family.

And if he was here on an unannounced, emergency visit …

Cloud closed his eyes and his lips began a silent prayer. He prayed that all his loved ones were safe, and that this was merely a misunderstanding of some kind.

The doors opened, and with Sephiroth close by his side, they walked into the living room.

And there he was, in his familiar crimson cloak, that hair obscuring half his sight. Cloud’s feet sped up, rushed into his arms even as Vincent stood.

‘Vincent,’ Cloud said, parting from their brief hug, his eyes locked onto that dark, expressionless gaze. ‘Tell me. Quickly.’

‘Your brother, King Aldrich, died this morning,’ Vincent said.

The world as he had known it spun off its axis, crashed onto the ground and shattered upon impact. His stomach dropped, and he could have sworn he stopped breathing.

With a howl of disbelief and piercing pain, Cloud dropped to his knees, the weight of grief dropping down on his entire body like an anvil. He vaguely felt Sephiroth get down next to him, and all Cloud could do was crawl into those waiting arms, that strong chest. He felt like he was falling, falling into a deep abyss of indescribable agony. His heart beat madly, his mind struggling and failing to cope, and all at once he regretted what he had asked of Vincent.

He wished he had never asked at all, because if he hadn’t, then it wouldn’t be true.

It couldn’t be true. His big brother, responsible and serious to a fault, a perfectionist and meticulous man. The boy that he had grown up with, they had skinned their knees together and laughed together and cried together and had fought physically time and again. The man that had grown into a king that Cloud was so proud of. He might have been sent to Midgar, and they might never have seen each other again, and yet, he had known deep in his heart the bond between brothers was unbreakable.

And he was wrong. His brother Aldrich, dead?

It couldn’t be.

It was just not possible. Aldrich had been so full of life. And he had only started out – became king only three years ago, and had gotten married shortly after that. And oh, god’s pity, Cloud remembered now, Aldrich had been expecting his first child with his wife. And now that was not meant to be. The promise of a shining future cut short, destroyed beyond belief.

His eyes were burning, but the tears would not come. ‘No,’ he choked out.

Vincent was crouched in front of him. ‘I’m sorry, Cloud. There’s no other way for me to say it. Your brother passed this morning.’

Stunned, confused, baffled, on the verge of vomiting, Cloud could only whisper his next words. ‘How? Why? I don’t … I can’t understand.’

‘I’ll explain it all,’ Vincent said, pity in his eyes. ‘Let’s just go sit over there.’

Vincent sighed, then helped Sephiroth get Cloud onto his feet, and over to the couch. His hand locked onto Sephiroth’s wrist. ‘Stay close, please,’ he pleaded, and his spouse nodded once, curtly, his expression unfathomable.

Vincent turned to face him on the couch. ‘Your brother … the king was taking his usual morning walk around the castle gardens when he complained of a pain in his chest. He collapsed, and the doctor was called. But while we waited, he became unresponsive. By the time medical help arrived … he was gone. It was over very quickly,’ Vincent added. ‘He hardly suffered, Cloud.’

‘I just … don’t understand,’ Cloud said, his mind trying to process what Vincent was telling him. ‘Did he have a heart attack? He’s so young, it’s not possible. He’s only twenty-eight, for pity’s sake.’

‘He most likely had a massive coronary event,’ Vincent said. ‘That’s what the doctors said is the most likely cause, but we won’t know for sure until they finish the full examination.’

‘He’s too young. He’s not an old man!’ Cloud said, his voice cracking.

‘It’s been known to happen.’ Vincent’s voice was so soft, so gentle, so filled with sadness that Cloud couldn’t say anything else.

He rested his head in Sephiroth’s chest, smelling that familiar, comforting combination of his husband’s scent. He focused on breathing deeply, because he did not want to cry. He could not cry, not until his world settled back down again. The roaring rush of blood in his ears was slowly beginning to quieten, and he could feel a queasy nausea in his stomach.

‘How … how is my mother?’ Oh, had the gods no pity at all? His mother had suffered a tremendous loss only four years prior, with losing her husband to the ravages of age. He hadn’t been that old, but a short mortal life was one of their legacies that his father had inherited, and it was apparent now he had also passed that same legacy down to his firstborn son.

‘Your mother is holding up,’ Vincent said. ‘She was the one who sent me to you. She didn’t want you to find out any other way, from someone else. We wanted you to know before the news broke officially, with a formal announcement tomorrow.’

Cloud bit back a whimper. It couldn’t be real, but it was. He felt light-headed, nauseous. ‘And … my sister-in-law?’

‘She had to be sedated,’ Vincent said. ‘She’s safe at the hospital. Do not worry about your family, Prince Cloud. They are all safe.’

‘Save for one,’ Cloud said, unable to keep the bitter anger out of his voice. ‘This is not a joke, is it, Vincent? Not a nasty, tasteless joke that my brother’s playing on me?’

‘I’m afraid not, your grace.’

Cloud’s hands fisted. ‘All right.’

‘Take a deep breath,’ Sephiroth said, from behind him.

Cloud breathed. Then suddenly he sat up. ‘Excuse me,’ he managed to say, then made for the bathroom in time, where he upchucked the entire contents of his stomach, retching noisily into the toilet bowl. He vomited so hard that he felt like his veins were about to blow, but the urge slowly receded, leaving him weak and empty, hands shaking, the taste in his mouth foul and unwelcome.

He wiped himself up, flushed the toilet before looking at himself in the mirror. His face was pallid, his eyes haunted with shock. He couldn’t stop shaking. Aldrich was dead?

Aldrich Strife had been a wonderful older brother to him. He had been raised from birth knowing that he would one day be king, and his personality was serious to a fault. His sense of humor was so dry it was almost non-existent. He had been stern, firm but kind to Cloud, who had been a little firecracker since he was born, never once tasting the weight of the crown on his head.

Most importantly, he had always drummed into his brother the same lesson that had been drummed into him – duty, family, and the people of Nibelheim. Those three was the sole reasons for the existence of the royal family.

Cloud’s mind raced back to the moment when he had torn up the photo of General Sephiroth that he had been given. ‘I’m not marrying him,’ Cloud had declared. ‘I’m not doing it. I refuse.’

Aldrich had merely stared at him over his scholarly glasses. ‘All right.’

‘All right?’ Cloud stared, his hands crossed over the front of his chest defiantly. He had been twenty years old then, full of ideals and optimism about what he could do to contribute to Nibelheim. He was up to his shoulders in charity work, his patronages and his semi-professional job on his brother’s small council. ‘You aren’t going to make me do it, Aldrich?’

Aldrich shrugged. ‘We’re talking about a marriage here, Cloud. Not a business deal. I can’t force you to marry him, don’t be stupid.’ He had pushed away from the table then, prepared to walk away.

‘Wait,’ Cloud said. ‘There’s no point over you pressuring me on this. I don’t care if you’re angry or upset. I’m not doing it.’

‘I’m not forcing you to do it,’ Aldrich said, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘I could care less.’

‘What?’ Cloud asked, defiant anger turning into bafflement. ‘This fucker of a general is a regicidal maniac. He killed his king, for goodness’ sake. Who’s to say he won’t try to kill the prince he marries?’

‘All right,’ Aldrich agreed easily. ‘That’s a valid reason.’

‘And I mean, this tributary agreement sounds like a load of horseshit. It hasn’t been active for dozens of years.’ Cloud swept those torn pieces of photo off the table bad-temperedly.

Aldrich merely looked at him.

Cloud looked back, the defiance in his eyes beginning to fade away. ‘You don’t care.’

Aldrich shrugged. ‘Look, brother. This is your life we’re talking about. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I’ll find a way out. Maybe we can renegotiate the terms. Like you said, this tributary agreement is probably outdated. Just give me a little time to look into it.’

‘But …’ Cloud began.

Aldrich raised an eyebrow, sighed. ‘It’s all right, Cloud.’

‘Tell me what you really think, Aldrich,’ Cloud demanded.

‘We are a tributary nation. I don’t want us to end up angering them. They’re a massive empire, and the last time they went to war they knocked Wutai onto their knees. I don’t want that to happen to Nibelheim. But I also understand that your happiness is at stake. I married the love of my life, and I want the same for you. I don’t want you to marry the psychopath who was responsible for fucking Wutai over. I will protect this nation, and I will protect you. Don’t worry about it. You make your own decision, and whatever it is, I will respect it and proceed accordingly.’

Cloud could feel his brother’s warm, comforting hand on his back. ‘It’s all right, baby brother. I’ve got your back. We’ll figure this out together.’

And they did, in the end. Cloud had come to understand that above all, he had a duty to his nation. In the end, he had gone to Midgar willingly and resolutely.

That felt like a lifetime ago. He stared back now, at his own hollow reflection. He wanted to lay down on the floor and weep like a baby, in hopes that the leaden weight in his chest would ease.

‘Cloud,’ Sephiroth said from the other side of the closed bathroom door.

‘I’m all right,’ Cloud said, but his hands were shaking. Was he really all right? Probably not. He rinsed his mouth and splashed water on his face before opening the door.

Sephiroth stood at the doorway, in his tall and intimidating way, that beautifully austere face with a hint of concern in that placid brow. He was like a wall, sturdy and solid, and Cloud could suddenly feel his face crumble. He walked into that chest so Sephiroth wouldn’t see, and the tears that ran hot in his eyes threatened to spill.

His brother was dead.

He didn’t know how long it took him, but eventually he managed to make it back to the couch, where Vincent was still waiting patiently. Cloud pushed his hair back, and with tremendous willpower, willed himself to focus on the practical matters at hand.

‘Please let me know what’s going to happen next,’ Cloud said. His voice was steady, and that much he was thankful for.

‘We will make the official announcement tomorrow morning. Flags will be flown at half-mast, and your brother’s remains will be lying in state for three days to allow the public to mourn for their king and say their last goodbyes. The private funeral is scheduled for after that followed by a public memorial for the next two days. It will be a physically and emotionally demanding time, and I want you to brace yourself, Cloud. This will be the hardest on you and your family.’

Cloud lifted his chin. ‘This is my duty, Vincent. I understand what I have to do.’

‘We will leave for Nibelheim as soon as you are ready, Cloud. The refueling and safety checks will take a while. You might want to take some time to get your affairs in order, pack your things.’

Cloud allowed those words to wash over him, his mind lethargically pulling together the things he needed to do. He turned to the man next to him, so solid and stoic that his close presence alone calmed him. ‘I would like you to come to the funeral. Would that be possible?’

Sephiroth nodded once. ‘I can make arrangements for that to happen. I would suggest that you return for now, and I’ll make my way there as soon as I am able. I’ll have Zack escort you as well, and Aerith has offered her assistance and support should you choose to make use of it. I’ll have Cill liaise with Jessie, clear your schedule.’

‘Thank you,’ Cloud said. He felt helpless in the face of his own mounting grief, as if he was missing a leg. If Sephiroth couldn’t be with him for the journey, it would be nice to have a friend at least. ‘Yes, I would like Aerith to come along if she’ll make the trip. I’ll … go pack now. And get ready.’

He left Sephiroth and Vincent speaking in low tones, and closed the bedroom door behind him.

His stomach churned despite the emptiness inside, the weight of nausea almost making the room spin. His legs folded under him and he simply fell onto the bed, curled into himself. His limbs were dreadfully heavy, and he wanted to go to sleep and wake up to find that this was a terrible nightmare.

But he couldn’t sleep.

And it didn’t seem like a dream the longer he waited.

His hot silent tears soaked the sheets. But eventually, he managed to drag himself off the bed and get himself ready for the arduous trip ahead.

He was going home.

His goodbye to Sephiroth had been painfully brief, distracted by the flurry of ongoing activity of last minute tasks and the overwhelming grief that overcame him when he least expected it.

Sephiroth had walked him to the airship terminal, and he saw the familiar sight of the _Highwind_ docked at the large platform. He had turned to his husband, breathed in that fragrance of leather musk and that fresh soap smell that always reminded him of pine.

They had exchanged a brief hug, and a chaste kiss on the lips. ‘I’ll see you soon, little cat,’ he only said, and Cloud’s voice hitched in his throat. He didn’t say anything, because if he opened his mouth, he was afraid that a sob might fall out.

Zack and Aerith were already onboard, as was Vincent. He was the last one to board, and they all waited for him. He knew he should go, and yet he felt torn. He wanted to go home to see his mother, see Aldrich for himself, knowing that he had one last streak of hope inside of him. But to leave this new home, to leave his husband for this journey … it simply seemed safer to stay in Midgar, denial and delusion a buffering blanket between him and reality which he had no doubt was going to bring him excruciating pain.

But the decision had been made for him, which was just as well. Sephiroth steered him towards the gangplank connected to the airship, and took a step back. He stood there impassively, sword by his side, his eyes merely lifted to center on Cloud.

Cloud kept his eyes on Sephiroth, even as the airship fired up and rose into the air. Sephiroth stood still, never waving, never moving. Cloud waited until he was merely a tiny little speck on the platform, and with great difficulty, he turned his back and entered the bridge.

The man who greeted him was tall, dressed in his favorite blue jacket and cargo pants, chewing an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth. The airship’s namesake stood there, sympathy in his eyes as he pulled Cloud in for a brief, careless side hug. ‘Hang in there, kid,’ Cid Highwind said. He had been a fixture all throughout Cloud’s life, from his tutelage in self-defense while Cloud was a child, to his captaincy while Cloud was still serving his military service, and finally, now a commander in the airship brigade of the Nibelheim kingdom.

Cid took one look at his face, and slapped him on the back. ‘You gotta buck up, kid,’ he said gruffly. ‘This is no time to be making crying faces. Your mother’s a wreck, and so is your sister-in-law. It’s up to you now, and you gotta at least try to put on a brave face for them. Save your falling apart for later. It’s what Aldrich would have needed you to do.’

Cloud sucked in a breath, almost flinched at Cid’s special brand of brusqueness, but he understood what Cid was trying to say. He wasn’t wrong. But the moment they had left Midgar airspace, the growing feeling of unease and fear was getting harder and harder to deny. Sephiroth’s calm presence had anchored him through Vincent’s relaying of the bad news, and now that he was gone, he felt unbalanced, like a chair with three legs.

Overwhelmed, distressed, his eyes made contact with Aerith. She came up to him, wordlessly hugged him and steered him to one of the sleeping cabins, which was blissfully empty. She asked him if he wanted to be alone or if he wanted her to stay, and he whispered for space. She understood immediately, leading him into one of the beds and he slowly slid into bed like a tired old man. She tucked him under the covers, and left him with a warm mug of tea.

It still hadn’t sunk in.

And the flood of tears leaked out of his eyes, burned their way down his wet cheeks. His jaw hurt from holding it all in, and all he wanted to do was howl out until the heavy impenetrable fog of grief left him. Instead he stuffed his fist against his mouth, pressed his lips together, and wept until he fell asleep.

The airship travelled through the night and arrived just shortly before dawn. The restless, hazy sleep he had earlier had helped, although he couldn’t call it pleasant. He kept waking up, and realization would crash down on him like a heavy wave of grief. He forced himself to return to sleep, because there, in his fevered dreams, he was safe. He hoped the next time he awoke he would be back in his room in the Tower – safe and happy.

But every time he woke up, all he could see was the unfamiliar interior of the sleeping cabin on the airship. The feel of the firm mattress under him felt different, as did the pillow under his head. The hum of the engine lulled him back into a disturbed sleep.

He could sense the end of the journey was close. The roar of the engines changed ever so slightly as it prepared for landing. With a great deal of sluggishness and reluctance, he pulled to a sitting position. He washed his face and freshened up, ignoring the plate of food that had been left for him on the nearby table.

As he stepped out onto the deck, he felt that cold chill in the air, which could only mean that they were close to home. The air here was infinitely fresher, not like the vague heaviness of the polluted Midgar air. The airship dome was an open air terminal, and as the airship was docking, he could see the small crowd of people waiting at the platform.

He could vaguely make out his mother’s neatly coiffed fair hair, and as they got closer he could see the white handkerchief that she always carried pressed against her mouth, her skin pulled tight with restrained emotion. He wanted to run to her, envelop her in a tight hug, and cry in her arms, but there were in public and among their staff, and it would not do for him to express such emotions. Not only was it inappropriate, it would make it awkward for their subjects as well.

Cloud was escorted by his own little entourage, which consisted of Zack and Aerith, Vincent and Cid. He took a deep breath, pulled over a mask of stoicism over his own face, and walked down to meet the group waiting for them.

But even as he approached, they had gotten down on one knee, and his mother had her shoulders bowed. They had never, ever shown such deference to him. He may have been royalty, but he was only a prince. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, baffled.

‘Welcome home, your highness,’ his mother said. Then she straightened, looked up at him, eyes swimming with a deep emotion she could not put to words.

He did not understand why they were addressing him with a title usually used for Aldrich. He was not the king, he never would be. He was about to ask when his mother sensed his confusion. And just like that, she cut him off at the knees and robbed him of his breath with her next words.

‘Cloud, your brother has passed. You are our king now.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading if you're still with me!
> 
> I understand that a couple of readers have had questions about whether this story has a happy ending. Let me put it this way without spoiling too much for you - life's sad enough already, we don't need smutty fanfics with thin plots to end in sadness. There might be angst, but more than enough smut scattered throughout and fluff at the end to make up for it. Until then, happy reading, and stay safe!


	11. Chapter 11

Sephiroth had known something was amiss the moment that Tseng walked into his office.

The head of the Turks usually stayed away, simply for a few reasons. One, his reports were usually sufficient, reams and reams of neatly typed up documents that gave Sephiroth more than enough information on whatever he needed. Secondly, nothing could really bother the still waters that was Tseng, who was able to calmly handle most matters that came his way. He ran his department efficiently and productively, and for the most part, Sephiroth left the Turks alone.

The tall, placid man sat down in his visitor’s chair, one of the two that he had intentionally ordered to be purchased as cheaply as possible, because he wanted to discourage people from being too comfortable and taking up an inordinate amount of his time. Sephiroth’s hand with the pen hovered in the air, and he did not have to wait long.

‘A single Nibelheim airship is approaching our airspace. Estimated entry time is about two minutes from now.’

Sephiroth frowned. ‘What do they want?’

‘We’re unsure at this point, but when they ask for permission to land, we’ll find out. But because this is completely unannounced, and only a single airship, we can only guess that they may be trying to deliver an emergency message of some kind.’

‘In person?’

‘Hence the possibility it is an emergency,’ Tseng said. ‘At any rate, I’m waiting for more information,’ Tseng said, lifted his PHS. ‘The threat is low at this point. We’ve identified the airship as the _Highwind_ , which is part of the Nibelheim military fleet. But it’s been used in the past by the Nibelheim Royal Family, so it stands that they may be trying to make contact with the prince consort. Could be a visiting family member.’

‘Visiting without notice?’ Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. He knew Cloud’s family were bound by a multitude of protocols and practices, and chances of them making an unannounced visit was highly unusual. ‘Anything from Nibelheim?’

‘Nothing yet on official channels.’ Tseng shrugged, then checked his PHS. ‘We’ve made contact. They are asking for permission to land, captain aboard said they are here to deliver an emergency, personal message to the prince consort. ’ He looked at the PHS. ‘An envoy’s been sent. Member of the king’s council.’ 

Sephiroth and Tseng both looked at each other. Tseng merely said what he was thinking. ‘A death in the family, perhaps.’

He carefully recapped his pen, placed it back into its home. He knew Zack was in his office, so he picked up the phone and contacted him, issued a rapid-fire list of instructions for him to escort the official aboard to their apartment, then got Cill to find out where Cloud was.

He got up, and Tseng got up as well. ‘Keep me posted,’ he instructed, and Tseng bowed. Sephiroth did not wait for him to leave, instead heading out before him, taking large strides to the elevator banks.

He arrived in front of Cloud’s office and saw that he was deep in work. When he looked up, that easy smile on his face, Sephiroth felt only a surge of pity. He did not want to do this to Cloud, but he would rather do it than have someone else deliver the bad news.

And the news was as bad as they came. The moment he had heard it, Sephiroth knew that things had changed irrevocably for his consort. But he willed himself not to think about it for now. They would cross that bridge when they came to it, and he did his best to support Cloud and assist with arranging the logistics of his abrupt trip back home.

He couldn’t move immediately, not when there were protocols in place that he had to deal with. He called Genesis, Angeal and Reeve Tuesti to his office, updated them on the events and instructed Cill to put things in motion for him to take a few days off for the funeral. He summoned Jessie, informed her of the unfortunate events, and rattled off more instructions for her to assist in Cloud’s immediate departure. As strange as it was, he felt duty-bound to attend the funeral of this brother-in-law he had never met. It did make some sense, because Nibelheim was a tributary nation, but perhaps it was more likely because Cloud had asked for his attendance.

He could sense Cloud’s reluctance to leave Midgar, and understood his reasons why. No one walked willingly into pain, and yet it needed to be done. But just looking at his little cat with his tear-stained face and luminous, crushed blue eyes made him feel uneasy that Cloud was departing without him. But he knew that Zack was competent and would keep him safe, and Cloud seemed to derive some comfort from Zack’s wife.

When he had returned to their empty apartment that evening, it was strange. For the first time since they’ve moved into the new quarters he had wished that he was back in his old one, where it wasn’t as large, and it never once felt this empty. When he had slid underneath the sheets of his bed, he felt almost perturbed. There had been no willing body to fuck, no warmth that burrowed into his arms. There was no hint of the pretty magnolia fragrance among his own sheets.

Even if the arrangements had been ironed out by all the capable people around him, he still could not move unless he had cleared at least half his desk. As usual, his paperwork load was unimaginably massive, an endless stack that almost never lessened. But he knew he could be away for more than a few days, perhaps even longer than his honeymoon. Costa Del Sol had been one ship’s ride away, but Nibelheim was farther, and would likely involve complications if he had to rush back.

So he sat there, obediently chained to his desk, plowing through the paperwork with a vengeance. After all, he had no excuses, no distractions. He had even skipped his morning spars in favor of getting to his desk earlier.

The hours rolled into each other, and the only indication that it was night time was when he looked up, Cill was gone from her desk. And yet the reports, the proposals, the documentation never stopped flying into his office from various departments. When a brief mission report from a SOLDIER First Class landed on his desk, he perked up with some interest, but that took a few minutes and was soon over.

Peace time was – dare he say it? – completely boring. He felt most at home swinging a goddamned sword, not a pen. But this was the weight of his sins, and he continued to pay it, refusing to allow his mind its inherent selfishness and grievances.

He managed, by the third day, to make a significant dent in his work. He tossed an entire pile of low-priority portfolios into his briefcase just shortly before lunch time, and signaled Cill that he was ready to leave. He knew the nation would be in safe hands – Angeal was level-headed and calm, and made sound decisions. Genesis, while flamboyant and occasionally careless, was meticulous and detail-oriented, and nothing would escape his attention. Reeve, of course, was the quintessential _Ubermensch_ , a man who could have easily ruled the empire had there been a difference in circumstance. He was an individual whose competencies could not be questioned, and his professionalism unparalleled. If anything, he worked as hard and as long as Sephiroth did.

He headed for the air terminal, where the fully-fueled Flying Fortress _Meteorfall_ was docked and ready for his arrival. _Meteorfall_ was one of Sephiroth’s favorite airships. It might not have the steely defenses of the _Kujata_ , or the spritely evasiveness of the _Leviathan_ , and definitely not the vicious offensive capabilities of _Bahamut_ , the flagship of Shinra, but _Meteorfall_ was commonly considered the fastest ship in the fleet. In war, he might have considered otherwise; but for swift continental travel, _Meteorfall_ was his indisputable choice.

After a quick word with the commodore who helmed _Meteorfall,_ Sephiroth retreated to his sleep cabin. He sat down at the desk, ignored the tray of lunch that had been placed there. He pulled the contents out of his briefcase, and began reading. The report had totally engrossed him to the point where they had taken to air and he hadn’t even realized it. Even though the bed beckoned and the idea of a few hours’ of sleep was as tempting as a siren’s call, he knew that he would most likely hit the ground running and would have little time to attend to his own duties.

The funeral for King Aldrich had been scheduled for the next morning, and despite the sorry circumstances, he was looking forward to seeing his little cat again. They had only been apart for three days, but his absence sat uneasily on him. Each night he had returned home hoping to see that figure standing at the balcony, greeting him with that sweet smile. That fantasy evaporated into a mild disappointment, and he had to resort to tapping into his reservoir of self-discipline to right his emotional state and outlook.

The commodore informed him of their entry into Nibelheim airspace, and that was his cue to finish up his work. He tidied up the papers, placed them into the briefcase and handed it to the assistant secretary, who was traveling in Cill’s stead. He rarely came across the young woman, who usually worked from the secretaries’ floor, but if she had Cill’s vote of confidence then he was more than happy to entrust the work to her.

He picked up Masamune just as they docked, and he was greeted by the same man, the messenger who had been sent to Midgar. From what he understood, Valentine was an advisor of sorts to the king. ‘Good evening, General.’

‘Good evening,’ Sephiroth greeted. ‘Mr. Valentine, was it?’

‘Yes. It’s good to see you again, even under these trying circumstances. It’s a pity that our last meeting was so brief. I’ve been instructed to take you straight to his highness.’ They made their way out of the airship, and that was when he got his first look at Nibelheim Castle.

Sephiroth stared, blinked. Cloud had described the castle as ‘big’, but he had failed to mention how big. It was a massive stone structure, rectangular and solid, with a single large stone bridge that led to its grand entrance. He could see about six towers that jutted from the top of the castle, each surrounded by battlement walls, the tiny holes in the crenellation only big enough to allow a single archer to aim and fire down on enemies. The castle was so large that it dominated the empty landscape around it, a solid fortification with the imposing and jagged rise of Mt. Nibel at its back.

From a strategic point of view, Nibelheim Castle was easily defended, and tricky to penetrate. The only entry point being the stone bridge that led up to it was on a raised mound, which created a natural bottleneck that made an invasive entry rather difficult. Long ago, beyond his time, the empire had sought to dominate the western continents, and Nibelheim had been of the nations that fought back. The fighting had been long and difficult, leading to an uneasy armistice that eventually informed their tributary agreement of today in exchange for its independence for its monarchy and people.

They crossed the bridge and entered the warmth of the castle, despite the coldness outside of it. It was like a labyrinth in here, he noted, carefully paying attention to the directions despite the seemingly endless turns and long draughty corridors and staircases. When his nose picked up that faint scent, he quickened his pace a little even as Valentine brought him to a set of double doors. It looked no different from the other dozen identical doors they had passed.

Valentine bowed his head. ‘He’s in there, general.’

‘Thank you,’ Sephiroth said. He turned to Vincent. ‘How is he?’

Vincent hesitated briefly. ‘He’s in a bad shape.’

Sephiroth turned to him fully now. ‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s struggling. He’s coping, as best as he can under the circumstances. But the last few days has been hard on him. He’s tried to be present for everyone, including the Queen Dowager, the Queen as well as all the public viewings. Because of the circumstances of King Aldrich’s death, he’s also been requested to complete the full battery of tests of his health assessment. He’s been refusing to do any of that, and skipping his meals as well as abstaining from having a good night’s rest. Most of the time, he spends it by King Aldrich’s remains. We’ve only managed to persuade him to retire to his room for a short rest while he awaited your arrival. He’s running on fumes as we speak.’

‘Very well,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Thank you for letting me know.’

Valentine bowed, and Sephiroth entered the room quietly, closing the door behind him.

The room looked like Cloud. It was simple on the outside, but bold and frank the longer he looked at it. The fireplace was crackling away, logs burning away quietly. Above the mantelpiece were strange little trinkets – one he recognized as a mini pagoda statue from Wutai, and another was a glowing green materia, so bright that it could only be from Midgar. The paintings on the walls were not sedate watercolors, but wild, bold streaks of glittering paint, erratic and almost violent. But his bed was so plain, white sheets with a layers of fur and blankets, the wooden frame nothing of note. And yet the display cabinet on the far right of the room held more trinkets, each of them as wild and lovely as the next. The carpet was a brilliant swirl of lurid blue and pink and green, as if a rainbow had thrown up all over it.

Sephiroth moved quietly through the room, the sound of his boots tapping almost inaudibly on the stone floors. The room was still, the air static, as unmoving as its owner was on the bed, sleeping curled up to his side, on top of the blankets, a pillow cradled under his head and between his arms.

He leaned Masamune against the ornate bedside table, careful not to disturb the pile of papers haphazardly stacked on it. He peered at the face of his little cat, troubled even in his repose, his cheeks tear-stained, eyes fluttering as if on the cusp of awakening.

With the tiniest little sigh, he sat on the mattress, and leaned over to envelop his consort in his arms.

Cloud stirred slowly, his face turning towards Sephiroth, like a sunflower turning towards the sun. His eyes opened suddenly, as if noticing there was someone else in the room, on the bed with him. They stared into each other’s eyes for a heartbeat, before the light of realization shone in his eyes. Then he lunged up, leapt into his arms as if he could melt into his husband.

The hug was heartfelt, and he could feel the tension melt from Cloud’s body. ‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ Cloud whispered. ‘I missed you.’

‘I’m here now,’ Sephiroth said. Cloud didn’t cry, but he could sense that he was very close to it. So instead, Cloud deflected his own feelings and the need to talk by doing what he liked best. His lips sought Sephiroth’s, their cheeks pressed so closely together Sephiroth swore that he could feel the wetness of Cloud’s blond lashes.

With Cloud pressing down on him insistently, he lay across the pillows. That mouth hungrily sought his, that tongue invading tirelessly, tasting of lust and desperation. His arms loosened their vise-like grip around Sephiroth’s torso and switched instead to shucking off his own clothes in wild abandon.

Sephiroth could tell that Cloud was hell-bent on getting what he wanted. They missed each other, but it was like he needed desperately the feeling of release that only an orgasm could bring. His actions became rather utilitarian, his hands making short work of preparing himself. There was none of the teasing, none of the foreplay that he usually enjoyed. He simply wanted to be fucked, hard and fast, that much was obvious.

He watched as Cloud pushed him further back into the pillows, yanked down his pants and mounted him so violently that they both hissed at the unexpected friction. But it felt right; almost like he had come home. Cloud undulated his beautiful body into a sitting position, and rode him, fucking himself down on Sephiroth’s cock. He moved at such a brutal pace that it was all he could do to hold on by burning his fingerprints into Cloud’s hips. He watched those clear blue eyes overtaken by a haze of pleasure.

Somewhere along the way, his moans of bliss shortened into grunts of breathlessness as his body worked overtime to milk every drop of pleasure. He could feel Cloud’s muscles start to tighten around him, his body stiffening for the inevitable fall. He was close to the precipice, but it wasn’t enough for Sephiroth. He had dreamed of this the past few days in that empty apartment, and when he had awoken in the watery mornings without that warm body in his arms. He knew that when he saw Cloud again, he would fuck him senseless, and watch as Cloud was torn apart by the agony and the ecstasy.

Sephiroth lurched upwards, flipping Cloud so his back landed on the mattress, his chest rising and falling dramatically. He stayed there for a moment, ignoring that foot in his back that nudged him to move. He stayed quite still, denying Cloud his pleasure, saw a flash of baffled annoyance cross those lustful eyes.

‘Not yet,’ Sephiroth said. He felt that nudge from Cloud’s foot become a kick, which he ignored. Instead, he yanked those thighs apart, shoved in deeper. Cloud threw his head back, moaned helplessly. He took the opportunity to suck on that fair skin of the exposed neck, marking him. ‘You belong with me. You’re mine,’ he said, even as Cloud whimpered. ‘Say it.’

‘I belong with you. I’m yours!’ Cloud capitulated easily, a whine in his throat even as his hips edged higher, trying to get his cock deeper inside. Sephiroth adjusted his angle, pulled out and slammed in again. Cloud fell apart completely, screaming his name as Sephiroth pounded him into the mattress hard enough to shake the bed frame.

Cloud came, shooting his semen all over their heaving chests, and Sephiroth’s fingers tickled down his body, fraying his already sensitive nerves. Sephiroth locked those wrists on each side of Cloud’s head, and fucked into that willing, wet hole. He felt the pressure build up to that edge, and he eagerly took a step off and fell into an endless spiral of cresting pleasure.

He rolled heavily onto Cloud’s body, breathing hard. Those arms enveloped him, hugging him close. ‘I missed you so much,’ he whispered again.

He listened quietly to the frantic beating of Cloud’s heart inside his chest. ‘I’ve missed you too,’ he said. ‘But I’m here now.’ He didn’t want to bring up the matters that would sadden Cloud, and yet there was no other way. Sephiroth never did have the habit of dancing around the subject. ‘You’ve been struggling.’

Cloud’s arms only tightened in response, and he refused to say anything else.

‘Talk to me, little cat,’ Sephiroth said, pulling back a little so he could look at Cloud in the face. That sweetness and light that he had always associated with Cloud was gone, replaced by a haunted look, one that spoke volumes about his sadness. Sephiroth did hope that in time, it would be gone. It would be a damned pity if that beautiful face didn’t light up in happiness again.

Cloud only folded his head closer against Sephiroth’s chest, and somehow he knew it was useless to push him unless he was ready. At any rate, he was fast feeling the effects of sleep deprivation over the last few days. He had pushed himself until the early hours of the morning, stumble home to the their overly luxurious, unnecessarily spacious apartment, and wake up about four hours later while it was still dark to resume his perch inside his office and its painfully endless amount of work.

He closed his eyes, breathed out, feeling all his muscles relax like it hadn’t since four days ago. And he fell asleep.

He bided his time until they were awake in the watery, darkened dawn, the moment when the sun was just beginning to peek out in its glorious pink tinge against the horizon. He sat up, alone in bed. He was alert and awake, and he looked up to see a curled up bundle on the fur rug in front of the embers of a dying fire, that naked body wrapped up in a thick blanket, that blond spiky hair brushing against the stone floor. Sephiroth padded over the ridiculously cold ground, picked the barely stirring bundle up and deposited him onto the bed.

He took a shower, dressed himself. By then the sun was already up, and he was ready to go. He wandered down to the grand hall, where Valentine told him that breakfast would be served. He was hoping to see Zack, and catch up with him on the latest developments.

He was just buttering his toast when Zack sat down in front of him. ‘Hey.’

Sephiroth eyed him. Zack looked tired. ‘Everything all right?’

Zack shrugged. ‘Been a little crazy the last few days. Running around with Cloud, everywhere. He won’t even go to bed. Yesterday was the first time in three days that he’s had a full night’s sleep. Every other night he’s running off to do something or another. You told me to keep an eye on him, and I have.’

‘I heard from Valentine that he’s struggling to cope.’

Zack picked up a piece of toast, began slathering copious amounts of butter and jam on it. ‘Hmm,’ he demurred. ‘It hasn’t been that much fun, I’m sure. He tries not to show us he’s been crying, but it’s kind of obvious.’ Zack flicked his knife at his own eyes. ‘It’s all in the eyes, as you know. And they haven’t taken it easy on him either. He’s had to take over all of his brother’s responsibilities.’ Zack eyed him, tensed up, as if bracing himself for a blow.

Sephiroth kept silent, ate his toast.

‘You know, right?’ Zack asked.

He knew exactly what Zack was referring to. ‘Yes,’ he said shortly.

Zack seemed to relax a fraction. ‘I mean, I genuinely don’t know how it’s all going to work out, Sephiroth. But if anything, Cloud seems reluctant to take it on. I honestly even think he hasn’t had the time to even think about it, that’s how busy he’s been. Between the massive list of things to do and his grief over his brother’s death … I just don’t think he’s processed it.’

Sephiroth felt his jaw stiffen for a moment, when he thought about how this had all played out. The moment Valentine had announced King Aldrich’s death, Sephiroth knew that somehow, Cloud would have to take his place. There were no other siblings in the Nibelheim royal family, and so far there were no heirs – not ones that had been born yet, anyway. There was a distinct possibility that Cloud would be made the regent until his niece or nephew came of age.

He didn’t know how he felt about that. He hadn’t even begun to consider the possibility that Cloud would take up the kingship. But he figured that he needed to have a conversation with Cloud about this – when he was ready.

One thing was certain – Cloud was his consort. That would not change. To him, everything else was negligible, even including a kingship. As far as he was concerned, Cloud had forfeited those rights when he had fulfilled the terms of the tributary agreement.

The conversation came a lot earlier than he had anticipated. Just as he had finished his breakfast, Cloud entered the hall. When he did, all of the staff working silently in the hall had stood, bowed their heads. Even Zack got up, excused himself, having loaded up his plate full of jam toast.

Sephiroth, however, remained firmly seated.

Cloud’s weary face turned to him, and Sephiroth was glad to see that a small spark of light had entered his gaze when his eyes landed on him. He waited until Cloud was seated next to him. For the lack of anything to do, he began buttering a piece of toast, and when he was finished, he pushed it over to Cloud. ‘Good morning,’ he said.

‘Morning,’ Cloud said. He bit gingerly into the toast rather disinterestedly. Sephiroth watched him, noting that Cloud seemed to have lost a little weight. His jaw and chin seemed a little sharper, those large eyes a little too big in that thin face.

‘Zack has informed me that the funeral is scheduled for later this morning.’

His eyes clouded over. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You’re going to be there with me?’

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth answered in affirmative. ‘I will not leave your side unless you wish for me to do so.’

‘Thank you,’ Cloud whispered.

Sephiroth watched Cloud chew slowly, his mind clearly not on the toast. Those bags under his eyes concerned him, and Sephiroth decided that there was no better time than the present to talk about the elephant in the room.

‘We need to talk,’ Sephiroth said. Instantly, he sensed Cloud slamming up his walls. He may not have known Cloud long, but he knew him well enough to know that Cloud wore his emotions on his sleeve.

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Cloud said.

Sephiroth stared, and waited. His stony demeanor would not allow Cloud to deflect his attention, and not for long.

With a muttered curse underneath his breath, Cloud stiffened his shoulders, straightened. In a slightly raised voice he said, ‘Would you mind giving us a few minutes?’ The handful of staff working in the breakfast hall immediately complied, exiting the room so only the two of them remained.

‘Your brother left no heir,’ Sephiroth said, getting straight to the point.

‘Yes,’ Cloud said.

‘But you have previously informed me that your sister-in-law, the queen, is pregnant.’

Cloud did not answer, and suddenly Sephiroth felt a twinge of grave concern. ‘Is this no longer true?’

Cloud finally looked at him in the eyes. ‘It’s so sad, Sephiroth,’ he whispered softly. ‘The pregnancy was in its first trimester. They said … the doctors said it happens all the time.’

Sephiroth did not like this one bit, but he reined in his dismay. ‘She miscarried the child.’

Cloud pressed his fist to his trembling lips. ‘It happened only two days prior. She’s devastated, and every time she’s awakened she’s been hysterical. The doctors have had to sedate her on multiple occasions.’

‘I’m very sorry for your loss,’ Sephiroth said quietly now. This was an unexpected and wholly unwelcome revelation. ‘What does this mean for you?’

‘I don’t know,’ Cloud said, fear and apprehension in those beautiful blue eyes.

Sephiroth processed this in silence. When he finally spoke, he could not help the steely tone in which he delivered his next words. ‘You understand that this contravenes the tributary agreement?’

Cloud flinched.

‘And when you married me and became prince consort to the Shinra Empire, you forfeited your succession rights to the throne of Nibelheim?’

‘Yes,’ Cloud whispered.

Sephiroth sat back. ‘Then I have spoken what I needed to say.’ Silence fell over their table, and there was nothing else left to say. And yet, Sephiroth knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that this conversation was not over. There was something Cloud wanted to say, but he could not spit it out. It was certainly fair enough, because Sephiroth himself did not want to hear it.

They returned to Cloud’s bedroom, proceeding with the rest of their preparations in complete, stony silence. Sephiroth pulled on his full military dress – the black suit with the silver braids, the one he used for all official events. He picked off an invisible piece of lint, strapped the sheathed Masamune to his belt, and settled down at the chair in the waiting area of Cloud’s room.

His eyes followed Cloud as he got dressed after his shower. His hair was gleaming, wet. He moved with a sluggishness that Sephiroth had never seen before – slow, lethargic and reluctant. But the expression on his face was stoic, resolute. He had pulled on a black outfit as well, but it looked drastically different from his.

The first layer that went on was warm undergarments that wrapped him from the neck to the wrists, and reached down to his ankles. Then over his torso was a thick, fur-lined jacket, as black as the night, as were the woolen pants. Over his shoulders he pulled on a cloak that was secured to his chest by a heavy ornamental brooch of Fenrir, the silver wolf. In that stark black and that look on his face, he looked almost stern, austere.

He slipped his feet into the thick boots, and then with some hesitation, put a gold signet ring on his finger. It sat on the opposite hand of the finger with the wedding ring on it, Sephiroth noted. The gold signet ring, which had an image of a wolf carved into the wax seal, was an heirloom of the Nibelheim royal family, a representation of their power to reign over the people. The king’s seal.

Then Cloud looked up, saw him watching. He dropped his hands by his side, fists clenched.

Sephiroth did not move his gaze, barely blinking until Cloud made ready to move toward the door. He had promised Cloud that he would be with him, and give him the support he needed. He had no problems fulfilling that promise.

The question now, perhaps, was whether Cloud could fulfill his own promise to Sephiroth, the one that he had made to him at the altar on their wedding day.


	12. Chapter 12

At times he felt like he could not breathe.

The black, fur-lined jacket he had on was too tight, or maybe the crest of Fenrir hung too heavily on his chest. The once fresh air felt static and stuffy despite the fact they were outdoors, and his chest felt tight from the intense scrutiny from the masses that were thronged outside, lining the streets behind the security barricades.

Aldrich’s final journey began from Nibelheim Castle, where his ornately carved wooden casket was carried on a ceremonial wagon pulled by six horses. The procession would take them down the stone bridge leading from the castle, and about half an hour’s walk down to the mausoleum that had been built on the far edges of the castle grounds.

Aldrich had been a well-loved king despite his short reign, and it seemed like almost all of Nibelheim had turned up to show their last respects. But it also meant that he bore the burden of their scrutiny, the receiving end of the combined weight of their grief and mourning. He wanted to collapse and cry, and yet knew these were the two things he was absolutely forbidden from doing. So he drew out the last vestiges of his strength – a weak, wavering thing inside his chest – and set about doing what was required of him.

He led the cortege, walking behind the casket, with his sister-in-law and mother in a covered coach behind. The cortege comprised of him, and cousins, uncles and aunts, the distant members of the royal family who were able-bodied. But he alone stood alone at the head of the retinue, and he often felt like he was the only person in the world, despite the people behind him, around him, surrounding him.

Despite his relation to the deceased King Aldrich, as the head of the Shinra Empire, Sephiroth had been given an exemption in participating in the cortege. But Sephiroth had vetoed that, and had chosen to walk about three steps behind Cloud. The rest of the members gave the general a wide berth, and he couldn’t blame them. Sephiroth’s visage and demeanor was absolutely forbidding.

When his chest constricted, and his breaths became shallow, he could sense Sephiroth’s presence inch a little closer, so close that he was almost one step behind rather than three. He never once touched him, but there was a strange, unspoken comfort. And when his breathing started to even out, Sephiroth would fall back.

It was only a journey lasting thirty minutes, but frankly it felt like it lasted more than three days. Especially towards the last stretch of it, when the mausoleum came into view. His brother’s journey would end there, he knew, and his breath hitched. He had to bite his tongue and stare ahead, unblinking, so he would not cry. He waited with patience as the last of the procession made it into the gigantic mausoleum, and finally let his sore, tightly held shoulders droop. The heavy double stone doors were closed behind them, the public barred from view.

But even in the coolness of the stone building, he could hear the endless din of the crying from outside. The atmosphere as he led the procession was one of great sadness, with the people openly weeping and crying. A little bit of Cloud felt terribly furious at them. They had no right to mourn him that way, not when he himself, the one who was raised along with Aldrich from boyhood to adulthood, was not permitted to cry openly. But yet he knew that their grieving was part of their respect for their king, and that was their last goodbye to him.

He felt a small, soft hand close over his clenched fist. ‘Come on,’ his mother said, her face lined and sallow with grief. Vincent had taken charge of the arrangements of the funeral, and for that Cloud would be endlessly grateful. He cast an eye over his sister-in-law, who was currently being supported by her attendants and her own father. A black veil was over her pale face, and she moved like an old woman.

And behind them all, standing nearly a whole head above some of them, was his husband – stern-faced, expression stoic and blank, that stiff posture never once drooping. It was so odd, but he drew strength from that stoicism. Took a deep breath, and led the way to the crypt that had been prepared for Aldrich.

He watched, dry-eyed, as they lowered Aldrich’s casket into the empty stone sarcophagus. When the heavy stone lid had been shifted into place, he felt his mother sag in his arms, wailing openly and so piteously that he could not hold back his own tears. His sister-in-law had draped herself over the meticulously-etched lid of the sarcophagus, seemingly defeated and bereft over her twin losses.

Vincent walked over to him. ‘Your highness, I would suggest that we take the Queen Dowager and the Queen back to the castle via coach first, from the back. That way they can have a rest, and we can carry on with our return to the castle at our own pace. The people will expect your presence.’

‘Yes, that will be fine,’ he said. He patted his mother on the back gently, and said, ‘It’s time to go. Let’s go home.’ He handed her over to Cid Highwind, who had eschewed his usual blue jacket for a black, ill-fitting one. Cid handled his mother gingerly and escorted her to the coach.

Cloud walked over to his sister-in-law, who seemed to be ignoring the polite requests by her befuddled father to make the return journey. ‘Hey,’ he whispered quietly, sank to his knees next to her.

Her quiet, hitching sobs tore at him, and she lifted her large, reddened eyes. ‘Cloud.’

‘I know,’ he said, extending a comforting around arm around her shoulders. ‘He’s at rest now, Tifa. Let’s go back to the castle, get a little food into you.’

She was sobbing so hard she couldn’t even speak, but she let him draw her to her feet, felt her lean against his chest for support. He walked her to the back of the mausoleum, where the black horse-drawn coach was ready and waiting. He loaded her into the coach, and watched as the horses bore them straight back to the castle.

Outside, the crowds still waited.

He could not stay in here forever.

He sought the gaze of the man who stood behind him in the hallway. Sephiroth met his gaze, and opened his arms. Cloud found himself brisk-walking until he was in those arms, safe and secure around him. He breathed in and out, felt each muscle relax one by one until he was positive he could melt into Sephiroth. He let his tears soak into the starched military jacket, confident that it wouldn’t show up against the stark blackness of the material.

He listened to Sephiroth’s heart beat, counting until two hundred. And felt like he was ready. He took Sephiroth’s hand in his, felt those long, graceful fingers intertwine and link against his own. Then they walked back to the front of the mausoleum. The double doors opened again, and he blinked his now dry eyes against the grey, cloudy sky, and the blurry mass of people, all wearing black. The entire path back to the castle, now lined with pale white flowers, scattered on the ground.

He gave Sephiroth’s hand in his a tight squeeze, then they walked forward together.

Hours later, after he was safely ensconced in the castle again, he checked on his mother first, who was currently holding court in the grand hall, where all their distant relatives were partaking in the various food offerings placed on the tables pushed against the wall. The atmosphere was hushed and somber as they reminisced about Aldrich’s short life. She seemed to be holding up well, having slid the mask of professionalism onto her pale and wan face to interact with her guests.

The queen was nowhere to be seen, and he had been discreetly informed that she had retreated to her bedroom. Sephiroth had wandered off on his own, citing the need to follow up on his own work.

Cloud sighed, his stomach churning uneasily at the sight of the rich food in the grand hall, discreetly made a getaway with the promise that he would return once he checked on the queen.

Her bedroom was as stately as it was simple. Tifa was never one for luxury, despite her father’s place as an advisor on Aldrich’s small council, and his father’s before. Aldrich, Tifa and Cloud had all grown up as childhood friends. Tifa and Cloud had been especially close, with merely one year between them in terms of age difference. They had grown up running amok on the castle grounds, then had shared classes and tutors in their education. And when Cloud had been a teenager, he had fancied himself in love with Tifa. But in the end, her heart had only belonged to one person, and that had been Aldrich, the steady, serious older brother.

She was always optimistic and level-headed, her face as sweet as her fists were fierce. Nibelheim was a tiny nation, and all their able-bodied citizens were required to take up military service for two years. She herself had excelled during her time serving the army, and her hand-to-hand combat skills were second to none. When they had sparred with her, Tifa had pretty much decimated Aldrich and Cloud, slapping them around with her fists and legs.

But when she had grown into adulthood, she chose to translate her fierce will into a career in diplomacy. Even though they were a tributary nation to Shinra, Nibelheim had established a friendly relationship with Wutai, and the two were trading nations. Three years ago, Aldrich finally proposed, and Tifa had said yes, taking her destined place as the queen of Nibelheim. Cloud had been so happy for them at the wedding. He had always loved Tifa, first in platonic way, and now in a familial way.

Cloud joined her at the fire place, where she sat at a rocking chair. He deliberately cast his eyes downwards, refusing to look up and see the things that once belonged to his brother. There was still a small pile of clothes in the corner of the room, and that work desk was empty. He had half-expected to see his brother there, and for a breathless moment, he fought the pang of pain that shot through his chest when realization kicked in.

He sat by her feet, folded his arms around her lap. ‘Tifa,’ he said.

She opened her eyes, and there was only pain in there. Aldrich had been the love of her life, and quite literally too. She had loved him since she was a child, and their love had grown exponentially since they had married. The last couple of months had been a beautiful dream since they had found out they were finally pregnant. But fate was often cruel, sparing no mercy for its chosen victims.

Now she was still bleeding, physically and emotionally. ‘Tifa,’ he said in a gentle voice. ‘Would you like me to get you a plate? Something small to eat? You need to keep your strength up.’

She turned to him. ‘Why?’

The question should have perplexed him, and yet he understood all too well. ‘We must live, Tifa. We have to soldier forward. I know Aldrich would have wanted us to.’

A bitterness he had never heard before entered her tone. ‘For what? I no longer have a purpose here. My husband is dead, and my child is dead. I have nothing to live for.’ She looked up at him, and suddenly he braced himself, understanding that her insurmountable grief brought a swell of fury to the table as well. ‘You don’t know what it’s like. You’ve just gotten married. And you’ve come home only for them to crown you king.’

He let her anger wash over him, and refused to indulge in the hurt he felt. He let her unspoken words float in the air between them. He knew what she wished – that he had died in his brother’s stead. But as much as he wished it could be so, it was not to be. ‘He was my brother, Tifa. I’ve known him longer than you. It is my loss as much as it is yours, and I wish you wouldn’t think that hurting me would make you feel better.’

To her credit, she looked ashamed. ‘I’m so jealous,’ Tifa whispered, her voice breaking. ‘Of you and everything you now have. Did you know that he gave me a child, Cloud? And I couldn’t even keep it.’

Cloud enveloped her in a hug. ‘It’s not your fault, TIfa.’

‘And now because of me, the monarchy is in jeopardy. I’m sorry, Cloud,’ she cried. ‘I never meant for you to take on this burden. Aldrich never wanted to do this to you, which is why we’ve been trying so hard to create a family. But we haven’t been able to.’

‘I know,’ Cloud said. He did. Their struggles of infertility had been difficult and challenging, and many times Aldrich had confided in Cloud his own insecurities and worries. It wasn’t anyone’s fault at the end of the day. It was just how it was, a stroke of fate.

‘What’s going to happen now?’ Tifa asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Cloud said honestly. ‘I don’t know.’

And he didn’t.

When they had informed him that he was now the king, he had reeled from the shock. Because as much as that was a logical step forward, he hadn’t even considered it in the slightest. He had never been raised to be king, and the thought never once crossed his mind. It was simply not his destiny. He had never been able to picture anyone else other than Aldrich sitting on the throne, and he had not once considered that his brother would die young, leaving no heirs to the throne.

He had seen the restrictions and restraints that the crown put on his brother, and he was often glad that he had no part of it. Of course his position meant that he would one day be sent away, to be the consort of whatever emperor that sat on the Shinra throne, but that was his destiny, one that he had already made peace with.

But it turned out that fate had other ideas.

All he could say then was, ‘I’m not the king.’ Vincent’s eyes held a deep sadness, but also a deep understanding of his shock. He knew it wasn’t the end of the conversation.

The next morning his mother had taken him aside, and placed the gold signet ring in his hand. It had been Aldrich’s, and their father’s before that, and their grandfather’s before. It was the heirloom passed down from king to king, a symbol of their right to rule over the people of Nibelheim. ‘Put it on,’ his mother had said. And seeing grief etched severely on her face, he put it on to appease her.

He knew better than anyone what his current position meant. If Aldrich had passed a couple of months earlier, this would not be an issue. But now he was married, and a consort to an emperor in his own right. He had basically rescinded his right to succession, although that was more due to protocol than anything else. He belonged to the empire now.

But the simplest problem at the heart of it was obvious to him once he had snapped out of his fugue state. If he did not ascend to the throne, who would? Who could? His mother and Tifa had joined the royal family by marriage, and had no claims to the throne. The heir that he was hoping Tifa carried in her belly was now gone, taking with it the last hope of Cloud’s freedom. Their distant cousins were a choice, of course, but why would they do it when he had the strongest claim?

How could he hold onto his kingship and his marriage at the same time?

The answer was painfully clear – he could not.

Those who saw his hesitation sought to speak to him regarding this matter – but he sidestepped it again and again until it became second nature. He threw himself into the work that Aldrich had left behind, and was occupied by the arrangements for the royal funeral. His grief took up the rest of his time, and he alternated between being productive and being devastated, and there had been simply no time to think of anything else.

But now the funeral was done. And his brother had been laid to rest. The healing would begin for all of them, and he was now forced to confront the reality of the situation, especially now that the silver-haired general had entered his domain, an intimidating, indomitable force of nature whose cat-green eyes now penetrated deep into his heart, knowing exactly the standing dilemma at hand.

He could have kept running for the rest of his life, denial his best friend. But it seemed that now the game was up.

There was a knock at the door, and it opened to reveal to Aerith, holding a tray between her hands with broth and a cup of tea. To his endless surprise and pleasure, Aerith and Tifa had become fast friends, and Aerith had extended her support to Tifa.

Aerith herself radiated a great deal of internal peace and kindness, and it felt good to be in her presence, especially during these dark days. It was as if she knew instinctively what to say, how to say it, when to offer help. Those large green eyes beamed with a sort of ancient wisdom well beyond her years, a deep internal reflection and understanding that helped her build bonds between her and everything that she came across. Her indefatigable cheer and optimism was a welcome antidote to the dour heaviness of grief that seemed to permanently hang in the air.

She entered with the tray, placed it on a table nearby, crossing the room to hold Tifa’s other hand. Tifa dissolved into tears immediately, and suddenly, Cloud could no longer bear it. He shared a look with Aerith, entrusting Tifa into her care. He was afraid that if he cried, he would not stop.

And since he hadn’t allowed himself to cry openly the last four days since he had found out the terrible news, he would not start now. He bowed out silently, closing the door behind him on Tifa’s desperate cries of pain echo in the air. He could not bear someone else’s pain right now, not when his own was so close to the surface.

For that same reason, he did not venture back down to the grand hall, where the guests were wanting to share their condolences with Cloud over Aldrich’s death. It was empty, and it was meaningless. He felt like an open sore – hurting all over, bleeding with nothing to staunch the open wound. Today’s funeral felt like a final straw – the thought of having settled Aldrich into his final resting place made him want to throw up all over again.

He began walking back to his own room, his legs suddenly walking faster and faster until he was closer to running than brisk-walking. He didn’t care if anyone saw him. Once he arrived in the relative safety of his room, he bolted the door behind him, heart beating erratically in his chest, and that damned trembling would not stop.

Sephiroth looked up from the desk when he had entered, his hands pausing in his work. Masamune leaned on the side of the table, as dependable as the man who wielded it. What would be appropriate under the circumstances, he wondered? Sparring with or fucking his husband?

Cloud realized it did not matter. He needed to survive, needed to forget for a moment that dreadful weight in the pit of his stomach, that uneasy churning in his chest. So he went for what was available instantly.

He crossed the room in hurried strides, his hands reaching out to yank Sephiroth to his feet, the silver ropes of his military jacket bunched in his fisted hands. He yanked him up to a standing position, and plundered that mouth, so often twisted in a tiny smirk or pursed into a tight line.

And he relished the moment that Sephiroth pushed back, and he felt himself bodily lifted by his elbows, his back slamming onto the desk with an unrestrained violence that both thrilled him and disturbed him. Cloud reached upwards, yanked on Sephiroth’s long silver hair, which he knew would piss him off. Sephiroth used one hand to pin his hands to the surface of the table, just above his head.

He writhed and bucked, but he could not budge under that tight grip. And he did not deny that pleasure when his pants were ripped off him, the heavy material tearing under the force Sephiroth exerted. His cotton briefs were flimsy in that powerful hand, yanked away like it was wet paper. And even when those fingers dug into his dry, unlubricated hole, he welcomed the sting of pain that invaded his body.

Cloud panted harshly as Sephiroth stretched him raw with two, then three fingers. Cloud honed in on the sensations, which were more pain and pleasure, and he embraced it despite his body’s reluctance. Those fingers were rough and unforgiving, but when they curled, as if beckoning the oncoming rush of pleasure, Cloud could only close his eyes against that assault.

He felt the pressure off his restrained hands ease, and Sephiroth used his other hand to close around Cloud’s cock, rubbing off with a frenetic rhythm. Despite the friction, despite his thoughts, he surrendered himself that those sensations, his body willingly fucking into that hand and those clever fingers, and was able to achieve orgasm in a short amount of time. The after pleasure rocked his body, relaxing every muscle, firing off oxytocin in his system that made his day almost bearable.

He opened his eyes, saw those silver tendrils above him, like a waterfall hiding him from view. Those cat-green eyes had softened a little, eyeing him with a strange combination of concern and fondness. He let Sephiroth bend down to kiss him, sharing a deep warmth that could not be conveyed through words.

‘When are you going to be doing your health assessment?’ Sephiroth asked, and the cool words from that sensible tone was jarring against the almost-sweet kiss that they shared. And he was reminded by Sephiroth’s apparent matter-of-factness. He was no sentimental, romantic fool.

Cloud pushed Sephiroth off him, suddenly felt cut off at the knees. ‘Later,’ he said, but his walk away was prevented by Sephiroth’s hand on his arm.

‘Your brother died of a heart attack, and your father had an early death as well,’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud had to work overtime to keep his temper in check. It felt like Sephiroth was poking his finger into an open wound. ‘I said, I’ll do it later.’

‘Your courtiers and advisors are worried about you,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I suggest you undertake the assessment as soon as possible. Tomorrow, perhaps.’

‘I suggest,’ Cloud said, baring his teeth, ‘That you keep your opinions to yourself, or shove them up your ass. I don’t care which.’

Sephiroth’s hand on his arm dropped, his eyes now cold. ‘Do what you want, Cloud. The health assessment is for your benefit, no one else’s. I care greatly for you, but your health is none of my concern if you persist in this attitude.’

He melted a bit at Sephiroth’s words, about him caring for Cloud. That had been what he wanted all along, but it still chafed at him with the realization that Sephiroth had intentionally used the word ‘care’ instead of ‘love’.

It occurred to him that no matter how much he relied on the man, no matter how much had his support, all he had from Sephiroth was fond affection, culminating in the word ‘care’. And it angered him that he had fallen for a man like that.

Oh, he was ashamed of how weak he was – Sephiroth had been someone he despised, someone he truly disliked. Yet in as little time as a month he had already fallen head over heels for this cold, distant man with a checkered, terrible past. He was not without his redeeming values, of course, but Cloud suddenly felt that his feelings would never be reciprocated no matter how much he tried.

That hurt. It hurt more than it should, he thought.

Why then, should he be concerned with the possibility of losing his marriage?

Duty had to come first, Aldrich had said to him. Duty above all. That was both their cross to bear, and the privilege they had been born into. Duty, duty, duty. It was what brought him to Midgar despite his reluctance about his future spouse, and it was what brought him home to continue his brother’s legacy. It might not have been his destiny then, but it certainly was now.

He turned away to clean up and get dressed. He decided that tonight, after the funerary prayers were over, it was time to tell Sephiroth of his decision.

It did not go well.

He hadn’t expected it to, but it went down worse than he had imagined.

Earlier that evening, they were gathered in the great hall, and were served a simple dinner of meat and potato and cabbage, as most of the guests had already headed back to their homes. The funerary prayers were a dreary, painfully drawn-out affair, one that consisted in them sitting in chairs and listening to the seemingly endless chanting by a whole choir of priests. Cloud himself had no religious affiliation or beliefs, but tradition was tradition, and his mother had sanctioned this entire affair.

Next to him, he could feel Sephiroth stiff in his seat of honor, his tremendous self-discipline keeping him still and unmoving for the two hours that the prayers went on.

When they finally dispersed for the night, after every single remaining guest and relative had come up to Cloud and offered him their condolences and their individual musings over Aldrich’s life, he had seen his mother to her bedroom. She looked exhausted, and was eager to retire to her chambers. He had an attendant check on Tifa, and was reassured that Aerith was with her.

He sat down on the chair that he had occupied, and dismissed his attendants. And he waited.

‘I was informed by Valentine that your coronation is to be held two days from now,’ Sephiroth said. His face did not convey any expression whatsoever, or his opinion regarding it, which was perhaps what made the confrontation so terrifying.

But it had to come to this sooner or later, and it was something he could no longer escape.

‘Yes, that is true,’ Cloud said. In fact, he had taken the coward’s way out, and when Vincent had asked him if Sephiroth would be staying for the coronation, Cloud had said, ‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ He wasn’t proud of it.

‘You will be crowned King of Nibelheim,’ Sephiroth continued.

‘Yes. Officially,’ Cloud added. ‘I believe I inherited that title when my brother passed.’

‘I believe you disinherited that title when you married me,’ Sephiroth corrected.

Cloud flushed. ‘Yes,’ he said defiantly. ‘But this calls for a change in the plans. No one was expecting Aldrich to die so young, or that he would have left no heir. This is an unfortunate set of circumstances, and the council has agreed that there was no choice but to reinstate my rights to succession.’

‘And there were no other relatives who has a claim to the throne?’ Sephiroth queried.

‘I have the strongest claim,’ Cloud rebutted. ‘I am his only sibling. Yes, there are distant cousins who could reign, of course, but everyone agreed that it would make no sense of a cousin to step up to the throne when I could just take over. I may not have Aldrich’s full training to become king, but I was there for much of it growing up, and I am willing to learn.’

‘I have no issue with this arrangement. After all, Nibelheim retains its independence in choosing its own king and governance with little interference. But surely you don’t mean to rule your people from Midgar?’

‘No,’ Cloud answered. ‘That would make no fucking sense at all. I’m not going back, Sephiroth. This is my place, and these are my people. I have to continue what my brother started.’

‘And where does that leave the state of our marriage?’ Sephiroth asked acidly.

Cloud’s chin jutted upwards, and he steeled himself to say his next words. ‘I don’t think we will still have one if we’re both going our own ways.’

Sephiroth considered this, his cat-green eyes barely blinking. It was so fucking unnerving.

‘I believe we can come to an amicable arrangement to end this marriage. After all, in all fairness, we’ve only been married for a month or so. We could look into an annulment,’ Cloud continued.

Suddenly, Sephiroth did the unthinkable. He laughed. It was a sinister, mocking sort of high laugh that suggested nothing of mirth and everything of contempt. ‘ _Annulment_?’ he said, the word sliding off his tongue like poison. ‘How on Gaia are we supposed to annul a marriage that’s been consummated every single day? Have you forgotten how you’ve begged me to fuck you on the night of our wedding?’

Cloud flushed with embarrassment and anger. ‘Fine, if an annulment can’t happen, we will look into other ways of dissolving this marriage. You never cared for it anyway, Sephiroth. So why do you care what happens to it? I’m sure as the esteemed _emperor_ of the Shinra Empire, you could find any willing man or woman to warm your bed at any time.’

At Sephiroth’s cold stare, Cloud backtracked a little, tried for a more congenial approach. ‘We haven’t been married that long, Sephiroth. We could simply present a united front, and come up with a good strategy that would protect both our reputations. Or trash mine if you want to, I don’t care.’

‘I will remind you that your marriage to me was dictated by Nibelheim’s tributary agreement with Shinra. I believe that we’ve established that _you_ are a tribute to my empire, and you have willingly submitted to this arrangement when you came to Midgar to marry me.’

‘I understand all that, but we can make a different arrangement. Our nations can negotiate a different tribute, and we can double the tribute in order to compensate you for your loss,’ Cloud continued bullishly. ‘I know it’s unfortunate, but you have to understand that I wish it didn’t come to this as well. There’s simply no one else that could do this, and we have no other choice. We can come to an amicable decision, Sephiroth, with regards to the dissolution of our marriage. After all, our relationship has been friendly.’

‘Friendly?’ Sephiroth asked. ‘Is that what you call it?’

‘Yes. I’d like to think we’ve established some sort of rapport. As long as you’re willing to come to the table, we can work anything out. I think if anything, you understand duty as well as I do. So you must see that I have to do this.’

‘I do,’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud jumped on that opening. ‘Then you must surely see that this is the only way forward for us. I’ve enjoyed my time with you, Sephiroth, but it was clear it was never going anywhere. So do we have a working agreement?’

‘No.’ Sephiroth’s answer was brusque, brutal and to the point.

‘Why the fuck not?’ Cloud shouted now, his temper suddenly tripped past the point of no return. ‘You’re just being a real asshole now, I’ve taken the time to explain to you what’s going on, and you don’t even have the manners to take the time to think about it.’

‘I was under the impression that the tributary agreement was binding. I’ve entered into it, and so have you. It’s a promise that you made me, Cloud, and this marriage is binding. Not only for us, but for the countries we represent. I hope you take it a little more seriously than a game that little children would play.’

The nerve of that man. ‘Sephiroth, you’re being a stubborn mule. Men made this agreement, and men can undo it. Give me a good reason why this agreement can’t be amended.’

‘I am refusing your foolish proposal on this basis that you belong to me. And I said no.’

‘I wasn’t asking for your permission,’ Cloud said rudely.

‘Actually, you should be. Nibelheim is a tributary nation, which means you are technically under the protection of the empire. And the answer is no. You said before that it is not your destiny to be king. That hasn’t changed, Cloud. Let someone else take up that responsibility. Your place is with me, as the consort to the empire.’

‘Well, I was wrong. I didn’t think my brother would be dead at the age of twenty-eight!’ Cloud shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks unashamedly. ‘Why on Gaia would I choose to remain a spouse when I can serve my people as king? Why the hell would I want to remain with you when you have never even respected me from the start? My place is with my people, and you can go right to hell.’

‘As much as you would like that to happen, the answer is no. I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice, my prince. You will be back in Midgar with me.’ Cloud had never, ever seen Sephiroth this cold. His jade-green eyes were icy shards, that sharp jaw set, that voice terrifyingly emotionless. ‘Now, I understand your concerns. Would it make it easier if you have some control over the fate of Nibelheim? I believe we can make arrangements to convert your nation’s status as a tributary nation into annexation. This way, you will be able to retain some control over the decision-making from Midgar. It’s not a perfect arrangement, I recognize that. But this is what I’m offering you.’

The words died inside Cloud’s throat.

This man was completely serious.

He had absolutely no intentions of considering an alternative deal, of releasing Cloud from their marriage despite the dire circumstances that required the marriage to be dissolved. All their good will that had built up in their one-month marriage had burned to the ground, and all Cloud could see was that he had married a tyrant, a man with no redeeming value whatsoever.

Instead of letting him fulfil his destiny, he was threatening to annex Nibelheim?

If he said no, would Sephiroth drag him back to Midgar?

If he made a stand...

Would Sephiroth destroy Nibelheim like he had Wutai?

Now he understood why Sephiroth had earned his nickname. He was the legendary warrior, the general who struck down masses, regardless whether they were men or women or children. He had decimated the mighty Wutai nation, and brought it down to its knees. This was the Silver Demon of Wutai, and for his opponents, there would be no compromises, no latitude, and no mercy.

This was the man he had fallen in love with.


	13. Chapter 13

It was worse than he had feared.

He knew Cloud would turn against him – that had been unavoidable. Cloud had left him no real option – either divorce him, or allow him to live out his days as king in Nibelheim, henceforth destroying their marriage anyway. He accepted none of them, and delivered his own ultimatum instead.

He knew that he was technically in the right. But that did not make him less of an asshole, and he knew it.

Problem was, he didn’t know why exactly he was choosing to hold onto this marriage when Cloud was clearly happy to toss it over for a kingdom of his own. For pride? For principle? He wasn’t completely sure, himself.

But Sephiroth was no quitter. He did not get to where he was by quitting, and he applied that same ideal to his personal life. His marriage had begun a month ago, he wasn’t giving up so soon. He intended to make a good go of it - and why not? Cloud was a lovely companion – he enjoyed sparring, they had excellent sex together, and he was a good man who had qualities and traits that Sephiroth admired. Even he had to admit to himself that he was unexpectedly fond of his spouse.

To dissolve the marriage so Cloud could take control of Nibelheim? He did not need to go that far. There were other ways, the most obvious one being annexation. If Nibelheim became a protectorate province just like half a dozen nations had done and assimilated into the Shinra Empire, Cloud would be able to keep an eye on his beloved Nibelheim. Perhaps he would not be a king, but Sephiroth had shown him more than once that a title did not mean a damned thing.

After that excruciating conversation the night before, Cloud seemed to have no other response, which was odd in itself. Sephiroth had expected him to lash out in anger, like he had done on many past occasions. His prince consort was spoiled, used to getting his way. And when he didn’t, he certainly did not hesitate to show it.

But the next day, and the day after that, Cloud seemed shockingly mild and docile, and did not bring up any further mention of his ascension to the throne. The coronation that had been scheduled had been delayed indefinitely. And Cloud was cooperative, pleasant, even.

Sephiroth was under no illusion that Cloud was obediently following his wishes. But where he expected retaliation, there was none. Which led him to suspect that something was afoot. Cloud was hatching a plot, and Sephiroth was becoming increasingly frustrated that he had not a single clue about what he was up to.

But he couldn’t deny that it had thrown him off, even if it left him with a mildly satisfactory sense of well-being at times. 

In the early hours of the next morning he had woke up with Cloud’s mouth clamped around his cock. That moist tongue licking against the underside of his shaft, the heat and pressure clenching him tightly shocked him into a state of lustful waking.

His hand wandered downward only to rest against the back of that spiky head, gently pushed him down. When that hot little mouth deep-throated him, he couldn’t help the groan that tore from his throat. The head bobbed up and down on him, sucking and licking, teasing him until both his hands were insistent on the back of his head, following the bobbing rhythm. He fucked that willing little mouth, his hips beginning to thrust upward and forward in a bid to get closer, go deeper.

He lay back onto the pillows, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of pleasure that zipped up and down his spine, settling into the pressure building up deep in his belly.

Then the dark figure slithered up on him, casting his shadow over Sephiroth, as he climbed on to his lap, impaling himself onto Sephiroth’s hard cock. The pressure was almost too much to bear, and his breaths started coming erratically.

The figure sitting above him was both seductive and wicked, his slender naked body undulating, riding him swiftly and gracefully, and thrusting down onto his cock, those beautiful lips making those filthy staccato cries that signaled his enjoyment. He was like a siren that came to him in the dark of night, an incubus who drew strength from fucking himself on a man’s cock, for he took without regard for anyone’s pleasure but his own.

Sephiroth felt like he was being led by the nose, his own desires subsumed beneath Cloud’s own pursuit of his pleasure. The rhythm he set was both brutal and punishing, and he barely kept up with the pace. It wasn’t until Cloud’s own cock ejaculated all over his stomach that Sephiroth finally let go, that tightness in his muscles unravelling insanely as he drowned in his own orgasm.

But even as his mind slowly started waking up, he knew something was amiss. Their discussion the night before had been wildly heated and as far as he was concerned, there had been no winners. And his consort seemed oddly mellow.

But it was Cloud he was thinking of – the man who enjoyed sex, all day, every day. His insatiable lust was a personality trait by this point, and it could be that despite their heated argument, nothing stood in the way of his needs.

When he was done, he collapsed onto Sephiroth’s chest, and closed his eyes.

Sephiroth stared up at the ceiling, and it was a very long time before he fell back to sleep again.

That morning, Cloud was once against dressed in a sedate, chaste outfit, the wolf of Nibelheim over his chest. He led the second day of funerary prayers. If anything, it was actually worse on the second day, which Sephiroth couldn’t see how it was possible. But he tuned out the chanting and turned his attention to the man who stood next to him.

What was he up to?

Did his silence mean assent?

Not bloody likely, he thought to himself.

That afternoon, Cloud sought him while he was poring over the new documents that had been brought in. He braced himself even as Cloud put two hands on his jacket, physically hoisted him into a standing position, and pushed him back until his knees bumped against the edge of the bed. He let himself fall, taking Cloud with him. But Cloud bounced up, stood in front of him, starting stripping down to his skin.

The belt went flying across the room, and the pants pooled on the floor and kicked away impatiently. He shed his heavy navy blue jacket, the wolf crest tossed irreverently to the ground. The shirt he wore underneath hastily pulled off, thrown at the foot of the bed. Sephiroth’s eyes tracked his every move, and his gaze could not be shifted away.

Then he lunged at Sephiroth.

He caught Cloud in his arms, that half-erection already rubbing up insistently against his jacket. He was hungry for something, and his greedy mouth took from Sephiroth, his tongue hot and invasive.

But he was still confused. Not a word had passed between them since the night before. Surely Cloud did not think he would be able to persuade Sephiroth with sex?

An unpleasant thought occurred to him. Was he waiting for his guard to fall, and Cloud would attempt to physically hurt him somehow?

The thought made him want to tighten his hand on Masamune.

And yet he was distracted by that pliable body rubbing up against him, his knees on either side of Sephiroth’s hips, his own fingers slick with lube, penetrating his own ass. He was teasing Sephiroth with his own little sex show, and Sephiroth couldn’t think through the haze of lust.

That made him more than a little impatient, and he scissored his legs so they wrapped around Cloud’s and tumbled him onto the bed. Sephiroth held down his wrists, used his knee to nudge his thighs apart. Those sky-blue eyes stared into his, daring him.

Sephiroth dared. His hands slid underneath the thighs, yanked him upwards. When his cock was sheathed in that deep, wet warmth, a sigh escaped him, and all thoughts of keeping up his guard fled swiftly.

His body was now addicted to this feeling of being deep inside of Cloud, and it was clearly dangerous. And yet even as he fucked that tight ass, he felt helplessly swept away.

What else was he supposed to do?

Two days after the funeral, he was more than ready to head back to Midgar. But out of respect for Cloud’s need to remain close to his family, he watched and waited, but had them make preparations for a journey home hopefully in about three or four days.

And yet they still had not spoken a single word to each other. Whatever communicating they had done, it had been with their bodies. And yet no matter how furiously they fucked each other, there was an undertone of uneasiness between them. Resentment, perhaps? Sephiroth could not blame him.

Sephiroth knew Cloud was up to something. He had his suspicions, but nothing too concrete. Was he planning to kill Sephiroth in his sleep? Run away from him when they got back to Midgar? Run away before they got into the airship to go home? Whatever it was though, it would reveal itself in due time.

At any rate, Sephiroth was not an easy man to kill. Too many had tried in Wutai, and had nothing to show for it. As for Cloud trying to do a runner, well, he could run, but Sephiroth would not stop until he found him.

All he could hope for was that Cloud was seriously giving thought to the proposal Sephiroth had made instead.

That evening, he had returned from a spar with Zack on castle grounds. The cold, chilly air had been fresh and crisp, the exercise a great way to clear his mind. And even as he headed back towards Cloud’s bedroom, he heard voices coming from behind the closed door. One was Cloud’s, and the other was a woman’s. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but their voices travelled.

Sephiroth leaned against the wall next to the door.

‘I named your brother Aldrich, for the king I wanted him to be,’ the queen dowager was saying. ‘But Cloud, you must know why I named you. I named you for the clouds in the sky, in hopes that you will always float in freedom, in happiness. I hoped that at least one of my sons would be free of the crown’s weight.’

Cloud’s sigh was audible. ‘Never once have I thought we would end up at this point,’ Cloud said. ‘I know my duty, mother. And if it’s any consolation, I’ve been spared the weight for the past twenty-five years now. I can do this. I can take it.’

‘Oh, Cloud,’ she said. ‘I’m worried about you, my darling. The general … he won’t be pleased. What does he think about it all?’

‘Don’t worry about him, mother,’ Cloud said, his tone bordering almost on dismissiveness.

Quite unexpectedly, it stung.

‘I’ll deal with him,’ Cloud continued, making Sephiroth sound like a thing, a problem to be solved. ‘He’ll come around to it, you’ll see.’

No, Sephiroth thought. I highly doubt it.

‘He is a reasonable man, I hope?’

‘He can be when he wants to be,’ Cloud answered.

‘Is he kind to you, Cloud? Is he a good husband? He just looks so … cold.’

‘We get along, mother. But it doesn’t matter. We’ll find a way to dissolve this marriage and we can go our own way. We’ve only known each other for a month. He’ll understand. He’ll … see.’

Sephiroth closed his eyes. Why was Cloud choosing to do this? The one month that they had had might have been short, but why was it so easy for Cloud to throw it away?

He stood there still even as Cloud came out with his mother, and they realized that he had been just outside of the room. Cloud’s expression was all at once guilty and defiant, and they did not exchange a single word as they made preparations to retire for the night.

The tension between them was a living, breathing thing that hovered in the room.

The next day, he was working quietly at his desk with the new stack of work that the assistant secretary had retrieved from Midgar by travelling back via _Meteorfall_. It kept him well-occupied until he heard a knock at the door. He barely looked up from his work. ‘Come in.’

Zack walked in, an unusual seriousness in the way he held his body. Sephiroth fixed his gaze on him, watching the man for any sort of tell. He looked like he was delivering bad news of some sort, so he put down the pen, and waited.

‘Sephiroth,’ Zack began, pulling a chair up to the table. He sat down. ‘When are we returning to Midgar?’

‘Three or four days from now, with any luck,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I want to make sure Cloud feels comfortable with the current arrangements before we head back.’

Zack looked so uncomfortable that he tugged at his collar. ‘All right.’

‘Spit it out already,’ Sephiroth ordered.

‘Look, I don’t know the arrangements between the both of you. And I don’t want to interfere in something I know diddly squat about. But I just wanted to ask, are you aware that they’ve set the date for the coronation for tomorrow?’

Sephiroth forced his hands to remain still. Patience, and self-control, he told himself. ‘No, I was not aware.’

‘I just thought … the way I understood it, Cloud was coming back to Midgar with us. I don’t know how he’s going to be king if he’s coming with us. I mean, is he going to be ruling from a distance?’ Zack rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I like the prince consort, I really do. But the last few days he’s been playing games with me. Like hide and seek. He’s always off in meetings with his council. I don’t even know how to address him anymore. Like, a king or a prince?’

‘Are you aware of what the council’s been discussing?’ It was a long shot, but Zack was deceptively clever. He might look like a lunkhead, but Sephiroth trusted him and his ability to keep an eye on things.

‘Not really,’ Zack admitted. ‘It just sounded like they were planning the coronation, which felt fishy since they’ve put it on hold. And I thought to myself, this doesn’t sound right. So I just wanted to check with you that everything is going as planned.’

Sephiroth nodded. It seemed like nothing had gone to plan since he’d stepped foot in Nibelheim. ‘Make ready to leave for this evening. Thank you for informing me. Now, if there’s nothing else, there’s a conversation I need to have with the prince consort.’

Zack stood and made to leave, but his usual carefree expression was troubled. ‘I don’t want him to get in trouble, Sephiroth. He’s having a hard time, anyone would if they lost their brother. None of this is within his hands. This is purely unsolicited advice … but take it from someone who’s been married a little longer than you have. Talk to each other, try to work it out.’

Sephiroth tried to keep that in mind as he searched the castle for his husband. It was no easy feat, considering how enormous the keep truly was. But in the end, Sephiroth stumbled onto what used to be Cloud’s brother’s study. Cloud was alone, looking at a document, and Sephiroth stood at the doorway, watching him.

This was the man who openly defied him.

Not many did. But those who had dared in the past had paid a steep price, either with their freedom, or their life.

He reminded himself. Patience. Self-discipline. Self-control.

Cloud looked up, those blue eyes zeroed in onto him.

Sephiroth was never one for subterfuge. He personally despised deviousness, and had no time or patience for it. The fact that Cloud was up to something despite being told no displeased him.

‘Hello,’ Cloud said, even managing to bring a small smile up to his face.

‘You’ve rescheduled the coronation.’

That wiped the smile off that beautiful, downright deceitful face. It hardened into defiance. ‘It’s going ahead whether you like it or not, Sephiroth. This is my duty. There is no other candidate that can take my place.’

Sephiroth walked up to him, leaned down, and drew a finger down from Cloud’s cheek to jaw rather affectionately. ‘Deception is not a good look on you, Cloud. But very well.’ He bent down, brushed those tight lips with his. Then he made to move towards the exit.

Cloud sat back in his chair. ‘What?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘You’re just going to let me go ahead with the coronation?’ 

Sephiroth shrugged. ‘I don’t seem to be able to get to you with logic or threats, Cloud. It’s fruitless to try to convince you if you won’t listen.’

Instead of letting it go, Cloud took the threat for what it was. ‘What are you planning to do?’ he snapped.

‘What I told you I would do,’ Sephiroth answered. ‘I’m going to begin the process of annexing Nibelheim.’

Cloud’s mouth dropped open in anger. ‘And if we resist?’

Sephiroth blinked at Cloud. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out for you, Cloud. If you need prior references, look no further than your ally of Wutai. They’ve been an annexed dominion of Shinra for about ten years now.’

‘Fuck you, Sephiroth!’ Cloud shouted. ‘You wouldn’t dare!’

‘Why wouldn’t I?’ he asked, baffled.

‘Because I’m your spouse, damn it!’

‘And when have you honored our marriage? When you considered giving it up to take up a kingship? When you threw it in my face without so much as a consultation?’

‘You owe me this, at least,’ Cloud said in a shaking, level tone, having reined in his temper. ‘I have given you all that I have, and willingly, for the month that we were together. This is the very least you can do for me.’

‘And why would I do anything for you?’ Sephiroth asked. ‘I don’t owe you a thing, _Prince Consort_. But I will remind you that you’re the one who’s reneging on our deal, which I will not accept. You came to Midgar willingly to enter into a marriage with me, and you’re the one backing out now.’

‘Sephiroth, you’re being completely unreasonable. Could you, for a moment, just take the time and think about what’s at stake here?’ Cloud pleaded. ‘You know Nibelheim can’t best you in a battle, just like I cannot win if you’re my opponent. We don’t have to resort to violence, and we certainly don’t need people killed because we can’t resolve our differences. I know you don’t want to fight, and I don’t either.’

‘Then why are you choosing to fight?’ Sephiroth asked.

‘We’ll find another way,’ Cloud insisted. ‘We’ll find a way together, for me to rule Nibelheim, and for us to stay married.’

‘So now you want your cake and to eat it too,’ Sephiroth shook his head. ‘How greedy of you, my prince. Fine. If you can work out a way for you to remain in Midgar as my husband, and rule Nibelheim from a distance, then I will allow you to ascend the throne.’

‘I don’t need your permission to ascend the throne,’ Cloud growled. ‘We’re equals.’

‘No, we aren’t,’ Sephiroth said, lifting a brow. ‘You’re my superior, remember? You said that before.’ He watched Cloud’s cheeks flush red with anger. ‘Someone as low as me will need to use every advantage, because that’s how despicable I am.’

‘I’ll travel,’ Cloud said desperately. ‘I’ll stay in Nibelheim for half a year, and Midgar for the other half.’

Sephiroth laughed. ‘We’re not pen pals, Cloud. How are we supposed to maintain a relationship with you away for a half a year at a time? I despise that very idea, and I refuse to do it.’

‘You’re not even trying to compromise!’ Cloud yelled.

‘Why should I? There’s nothing for me to lose in this situation, save you. So why would I not fight my hardest to keep you? Why should I compromise?’ Sephiroth sighed. ‘If you don’t have any more brilliant ideas, then I think you should get ready to head home with me. The Commodore is already preparing _Meteorfall_ for travel. You may take your time to say your goodbyes.’

With that, he turned his back and walked out. He headed back to Cloud’s bedroom, the one they had shared for the past few nights. He placed Masamune on the bed, and pulled out his bag.

As he was packing his clothes into his valise, Cloud walked in, slammed the door behind him. He was in a fine temper, Sephiroth thought. He reminded himself to draw on that well of patience deep inside of him.

‘I’m not going with you,’ Cloud said.

That thread of patience snapped. ‘That’s not going to happen,’ Sephiroth bit out the words.

Cloud marched up to him, where Sephiroth was currently folding a pair of soft sleep pants to place into the suitcase. Swiftly, his hand shot out, threw Masamune onto the floor. Before Sephiroth could even move, Cloud had the sword underneath his boot.

Sephiroth prayed for calm. The sword was well-protected under its ornate sheath. Nothing Cloud could do would be able to damage Masamune. The lack of respect was unacceptable, but that could be addressed later. Right now, to strike out at Cloud would be the worst thing he could do. Deliberately, he moved his gaze away from Masamune and up to Cloud’s flaming blue eyes, currently burning in his pale, sharp face.

He kept folding his clothes, packed them neatly into the suitcase. He ordered himself to stay in control, stay calm. If he lost his shit, he would lose it all.

But next to him, he could hear the metal sheath clang against the stone floor and Cloud’s full weight channeled into the boot.

Sephiroth spun, his hand shot out, grabbed Cloud by his lapel, bodily lifted him off Masamune. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ he whispered.

‘I will do anything to get a reaction out of you, you cold-hearted stone-faced son of a bitch,’ Cloud spat furiously. ‘Do I have your attention now?’ He sank his fingernails into Sephiroth’s arm. ‘I’m not going back with you to Midgar. You’ll have to drag me back while I’m unconscious, because there’s no way I’m coming voluntarily!’

‘Very well,’ Sephiroth said. ‘If that is what you wish.’ With his hand still buried in the front of Cloud’s jacket, he shoved him back two steps, then leaned down to reached for Masamune. He turned the sword so the hilt and pommel faced Cloud instead. He was about to bring it down on his head when he saw those tears sparkling in those large blue eyes. It stayed his hand.

What the hell was he doing?

Why was he letting himself get sucked into Cloud’s vortex of anger and impulsivity? He had come this close to knocking his spouse out so he could literally drag his ass back to the airship. He needed to think, needed to clear his head. Despite what his heart wanted, what he needed right now was distance and time.

He found himself releasing his hold on Cloud, who took another two steps back, watery eyes still wary, incandescent with a fury that Sephiroth did not understand, fight etched into every cell of his body. Even if he did manage to take Cloud back to Midgar with him, he would run right back to Nibelheim.

He didn’t understand why Cloud was doing this.

He didn’t understand why it was so easy for Cloud to leave him.

Why did he even care? Cloud was right. He would have his choice of people who would gladly warm his bed. He never needed a husband to wait for him at home. He never needed any of it.

But what was undeniable was the truth that surfaced in his heart. He may not have needed Cloud in his life, but he wanted him there.

And he knew already – that he had nothing to lose. Except Cloud.

And he was already closer to losing him than he’d originally thought. He had to use his brains, Sephiroth told himself. Self-control, patience, strategy. He needed to play this game right, or risk losing it all. Zack was right. Cloud needed time. Sephiroth himself needed time.

‘You have thirty days from this day forward,’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud lifted his head. ‘Thirty days?’

‘Sort out whatever you need to in order to stabilize Nibelheim. I don’t care who you appoint, or what systems you choose to implement. No matter what happens after the thirty days, you will return to Midgar on the airship that I send. You already know what I think about your ascension, Cloud, but the choice is yours to proceed with it or not,’ Sephiroth said. ‘And you know the consequences should you fail to return to Midgar.’

Sephiroth stared at Cloud now, his voice serious, his gaze cold as ice. ‘But allow me to spell it out for you. Should you fail to return, I will assemble the Shinra army and they will arrive at your doorstep demanding Nibelheim’s annexation. If you fail to accede to this request, I will burn Nibelheim Castle down to the ground, and upon capture, all the resistance fighters will be executed.’

‘Including me as well?’

‘No. You will live, but you will watch your fellow countrymen die. I tire of your games of deceit and manipulation. No more.’ He straightened, keeping Masamune close to his hip. ‘Do we have a deal, Cloud?’

Cloud hesitated. He could see the turmoil on his face, but Sephiroth hardened himself against it.

‘Yes,’ Cloud said. He did not agree or disagree with Sephiroth’s command, but now the ball was left in his court. All he had to do was make a decision, and that had absolutely nothing to do with Sephiroth. He forced himself to be satisfied with that.

‘Then it is goodbye for now,’ Sephiroth said, bending his head slightly to meet those lips. To his surprise, Cloud angled upwards, met that crushing kiss with his own ardor. The kiss was hungry and possessive, full of anger and defiance, but although which emotion belonged to whom he did not know. They parted, lips tingling and swollen, breathless with lust and sadness.

‘Goodbye,’ Cloud whispered against his cheek, before pressing a chaste kiss on his skin.

Sephiroth tried not to think what Cloud’s goodbye, with its shades of finality and pain, could possibly mean for his decision to come.


	14. Chapter 14

Thirty days seemed like a lot at first, but it turned out to be nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Sephiroth departed on _Meteorfall_ that evening itself after he had set out his ultimatum. He did not say goodbye, merely leaving Zack and Aerith behind, leaving as swiftly as he had arrived. He had no retinue, no parade, and did not have any parting words. That left his ultimatum as the last thing he said, and Cloud would admit that it was horribly ominous the way his words hung in the air.

The moment the airship had departed Nibelheim airspace, Cloud had gotten to work. The first lesson that he learned was that there was a drastic difference between being prince and being king. A prince managed a handful of portfolios, but a king oversaw them all.

His brother had left a whole stack of work on his table, through no fault of his own. The condition of his work desk had reflected that very human belief that there would be a tomorrow. Unless it was of utmost importance, it was done at his own pace. Cloud decided there was no better way to begin than to pick up the first thing he laid his eyes on.

Eventually, evening faded into night, and at some point in time he simply laid his head down on the desk and closed his eyes. And when he awoke, it was morning again.

When day one began, he was almost crippled underneath the seemingly endless stack of work. The second lesson that he learned was that the learning curve was utterly unforgiving. He had no training, no blueprint to draw from, and worst of all, no mentor. Even the simplest portfolio required a great deal of prior understanding, and because he failed to acquire that, he had to go back into the older records in order to gain even the slightest bit of context.

He passed the first five days frantically boning up on the portfolios. He didn’t even have time to think about Sephiroth’s ultimatum, let alone give any thought to it. There was a part of him that asked himself what was the damned point of starting the portfolios when he was going to have to leave Nibelheim in thirty days.

When he did have time to pause, utterly exhausted and sick of the work, he turned his mind to considering the ultimatum. Was there any real choice in it, really? Was there any workable alternative after all? Sephiroth gave him more than enough time to consider his new successor, but was there an appropriate candidate?

The next-in-line to the throne after Cloud was a second cousin on his father’s side, a young man of fifteen who made a living guiding tourists up Mt. Nibel. The next after that was the boy’s sister, who was even younger at fourteen.

Cloud felt only frustration. He himself was young, inexperienced, a terrible a choice; and yet, he was the best bet Nibelheim had. How could he explain this to Sephiroth? But even if he could, he knew Sephiroth would not listen. No matter how much he racked his brain over this development, he could not come up with a better solution.

Which was probably why he found himself being crowned during the official coronation, with his mother looking on with pride and a hint of sadness. The ceremony was brief and somber, but Cloud preferred it that way. The mourning period was a dark cloud hanging over them, and they knew that this coronation was out of necessity, and that there was no place for a celebration.

But the entire time during the ceremony his mind was torn between paying attention to the priests and the letter that arrived that morning, addressed to the Kingdom of Nibelheim. It was a simple letter on white paper, but the weight it represented was heavier than an anvil and the words although plain, held an open threat. He had stuffed the letter underneath the stack of folders on his desk, but knew it was a matter of time before he had to surface it to his council.

There was no time like the present, especially when the clock was ticking down at an exponential pace, so as soon as the muted festivities was over, he called the council to their first official meeting. And the letter was the first item on the agenda. A pall fell over the council immediately.

Cid Highwind was the first one to toss the letter irreverently back onto the table. ‘What the fuck is this shit? Who does that stupid ridiculous motherfucker think he is?’

Vincent picked up the letter calmly, read through the words briefly again. It wasn’t a long letter, but Cloud had committed it to his memory. It wasn’t hard, considering it was a reiteration of what Sephiroth had said to him. Basically – if the prince consort of Shinra wasn’t returned after 30 days, the empire would arrive at Nibeheim’s doorstep. ‘He’s the Silver Demon, and none of us are likely to forget it,’ he reminded all of them.

‘Still, he’s being an unreasonable piece of shit,’ Cid said, chewing angrily on his cigarette. He had quit about twenty years ago, but it did not stop him from sucking and chewing on those unlit cigarettes until it was a sloppy, disgusting mess. But despite his horrid habits, Cid remained one of the people that Cloud trusted unreservedly. They had a long history together, culminating ultimately during Cloud’s two years of military service, in which Cid was his commanding officer. He hadn’t given the slightest shit about the fact that he was royalty, and he worked him no better than the lowest grunt. He had been put through the paces, punished completely, but he came out better for it.

‘Is he though?’ Vincent asked. ‘The terms in the tributary agreement were laid out very clearly. It is a close-ended document that doesn’t stipulate any sort of retractions.’

‘So what does that mean anyway?’ Cid grunted bad-temperedly. ‘Basically no takesie-backsies, huh?’

Vincent paused. ‘You could say that.’

‘But these circumstances are special,’ Cid insisted gruffly. ‘Who the hell knew Aldrich was going to kick the bucket at his age?’

Cloud could only wince internally.

Vincent sighed. ‘Right now, we’re in a position of instability. Cloud is new to the role, the last thing we need right now is a fight on our hands. And I will remind you, this is a fight we cannot win. The empire has thousands of infantry at its command, and that’s not even mentioning their SOLDIER division, which could decimate us if given the chance. They are experienced warmongers, every last one of their generals. They slaughtered their way in the Wutai War, and no one killed more men than the Silver Demon. It would not be wise for us to court trouble with Shinra.’

Cid kicked the table viciously. ‘So what are you saying? You sayin’ we should tell our king to get up and fuck off back to Midgar? He’s only been there for a couple of months, that don’t make him a Shinra citizen.’

‘Actually, it does,’ Vincent corrected. ‘The tributary agreement states that he gains Shinra citizenship at the moment of his wedding. So, he does technically belong to them.’

‘The fuck!?’ Cid looked like he was going to slap the shit out of Vincent and his even temper. Terrius Lockhart had to get up between them.

‘Gentlemen,’ Terrius said. ‘No one regrets the current circumstances more than I do, believe me.’ Cloud felt for him. His daughter had lost not only her husband, but the heir to the throne. ‘But there’s no point getting upset. Your Highness, what is your opinion on all of this?’

‘It’s clear what his fucking opinion is, Terrius. He took the crown, which is what he deserves!’ Cid barked.

Cloud breathed. ‘I think after all that is said and done, I strongly feel that this is my duty. I am willing to take on this mantle, but I think … I will abide by the decision made by the council. If you wish for me to go back to Midgar, I will do that. If you wish for me to-’

‘Hand your crown over to your sheep-fucking village boy up in the mountains?’ Cid spat out in annoyance. ‘Yeah, I’ll resign my position the day he gets here.’

‘He’s a mountain guide,’ Terrius chided him gently.

‘Well, that’s not what I’m suggesting either,’ Vincent said. ‘We don’t have any viable candidates currently. What I am suggesting however, is cutting a deal with Shinra.’

‘A deal right now? It sounds like an impossibility, Vincent. We’re on the back foot, and we’re on the faulty end.’ Terrius ignored Cloud’s slight wince. ‘I think it all boils down to what risks we can take.’

‘Not many,’ Vincent said. ‘But we have to try. Cloud, you have the best insight into the emperor’s thoughts. What does he want? Or rather, what will he take in return?’

‘He wants the annexation of Nibelheim,’ Cloud admitted.

The table exploded. ‘Fuck that!’ Cid said, predictably. ‘We’re nobody’s bitch.’

‘Nibelheim has always maintained its independence. And even if we are a tributary nation, Shinra does not interfere with our rule.’

‘Gods, to think of being annexed by that bloody bunch of warmongers,’ Terrius said. ‘We’re a peace-loving people. Cloud,’ he said urgently. ‘That is not acceptable.’

‘This is why I came to the council,’ Cloud said. ‘I was hoping we could find another way.’

‘We’ll find a goddamned way if it’s the last thing we do,’ Cid said. ‘If we have a fight on our hands, then so be it. Someone ought to teach that silver-haired prick a lesson about what he can or can’t have. He doesn’t need a king; we do. For fuck’s sake, if he wants a spouse he can bloody well marry his sword, and then fuck himself with it.’

Cloud had to laugh at Cid’s irreverence, and how close he had come to knowing Masamune’s importance to Sephiroth. To be frank, he still didn’t know why Sephiroth was insisting on his return. It made no sense. Was it a case of a bully who was denied a toy? Was he bored of peace and was insisting on picking a fight? Nibelheim wouldn’t even make a very good opponent – they were a tiny kingdom, and the might of the Shinra army would crush them in all about two seconds. The only thing that could prove a challenge was the castle – it was a fortified citadel, meant to withstand months to years of sieging provided it was well-stocked.

‘Let us at least open up the channels of communication and try peace first,’ Vincent said. ‘I suggest we do our best to offer him an alternative to you, including a reparation of sorts.’

‘We don’t have much,’ Terrius said. ‘But would wood and gold satisfy the Silver Demon?’

Cid laughed. ‘What the fuck is he going to do with wood? Build himself a cabin so he can spend the rest of his days jerking off? And Shinra don’t need any gold. They’re fucking richer than us. They’re an empire for god’s sake. No, we should offer him a wife. A replacement for the prince consort, but better.’

Cloud stared at Cid. He didn’t like the idea, but there was some sense in it.

‘He needs a successor to the empire, doesn’t he? We offer him a nice, beautiful woman, and we offer him fucktons of gold. Or wood. Or whatever tradeable goods we’ve got to sweeten the pot.’ Cid chewed on his cigarette. ‘He needs a woman to bear his children. No offense to you, Cloud, but you’ve got a dick.’

Only Cloud’s training stopped him from rolling his eyes.

‘That didn’t stop the general from accepting him as a consort in the first place,’ Terrius pointed out. 

‘It’s not a bad idea,’ Vincent said.

It was a terrible idea, Cloud thought, but he might be biased, he thought. He himself had been a sacrificial tribute to a marriage he did not want, and to think that it would be inflicted on another poor, unlucky Nibelheim citizen was unthinkable.

The other part of him blanched at the idea of the man he loved fucking another willing body every night.

That had been his role. But no more.

There was a deep stirring in the pit of his stomach. Of lust? Of desire? Of love?

It was better not to dwell on it. Love was nothing in the face of duty.

‘I can get started on drafting a message to the general,’ Vincent said. ‘I just need a couple of hours, and then Cid can get the message to him by tomorrow afternoon if he sets off on _Highwind_ in the morning.’

‘Aw fuck, why do I have to do it?’ Cid groaned.

‘You have my full authorization to offer whatever you feel is necessary and will not cripple our economy,’ Cloud said. ‘But be generous. The general is … a stubborn man and he’s not easy.’

Vincent bowed and left the council, almost dragging the reluctant, swearing Cid out with him. Terrius was left at the table. ‘Your Highness, if I could have a word, please.’

‘Of course,’ Cloud leaned forward.

Terrius was hesitant. ‘I’ve been mulling over this. And I haven’t the right words, but … I think there’s no easy way to say it. So I’m just going to spit it out, and apologize for whatever offense I may cause.’

‘Of course, I would like you to speak freely.’ And yet, Cloud braced himself anyway.

Terrius sighed. ‘My daughter Tifa … your brother made her a young widow. She is your age, and you can imagine how difficult it is for her right now.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Cloud said. ‘She’s my sister-in-law, and will always be. But before that, don’t forget, Lord Terrius, we were friends first. She will be well taken care of, I promise you.’

‘Well, that is very reassuring. Your family has always been kind and loving to Tifa. But would you consider this very ludicrous proposal? Would you consider taking Tifa as your wife?’

Cloud knew it was coming. It had just been a matter of time.

Once upon a time, he had fancied himself in love with Tifa. How could he not, when she was shy and strong and gracious and loving at the same time? As a friend she was sweet and loving, opinionated and powerful in her own right. He had been crushed when he found out that Tifa’s heart lay with his brother Aldrich instead. Perhaps once upon a time, he would have said yes.

He could not deny it made logical sense. Tifa was a close friend, and they got along exceedingly well. They were connected via Aldrich, and their union would help ease the pain of loss of their beloved king. Tifa’s father was part of the council, and Tifa herself was an immensely popular public figure. If Cloud wanted to win people over to his side, then Tifa as his wife was a no-brainer. And they were all adults here. For him, expediency and practicality would win over romance or daydreams any day.

And yet …

‘While I am still married to someone else, I can’t really consider it,’ Cloud said gently.

‘Fair enough,’ Terrius said. ‘But we are trying to dissolve your marriage, in hopes that we will achieve this end. Our nation’s independence and sovereignty depends on it. But when that happens, would you promise to give serious consideration to my proposal?’

‘What does Tifa think about it?’

‘She is currently, surprisingly ambivalent about it. I think she feels like she has failed your family in many ways, primarily because she had failed to produce an heir to the throne.’

‘It’s not her fault,’ Cloud said.

‘It’s not,’ Terrius agreed. ‘But it’s what she believes. With this marriage, she could find redemption. And you may not love each other now, but love is something that can grow with time and patience.’

No shit, Cloud thought to himself. It had only taken him a month and a well of patience, but he had fallen in love with Sephiroth.

‘I agree,’ Cloud said. ‘I’m not saying yes or no for now, and I promise I will give it the due consideration it deserves.’

‘Then that’s all I ask,’ Terrius said, sighing heavily. ‘My family has been recipients of the grace of the royal family for some time now, and all we wish is to serve in return. You have our full loyalty, Your Highness. Even if it means in war, but I hope we don’t ever come to that.’

‘I hope so too,’ Cloud said.

To no one’s surprise whatsoever, their very generous offer to the Shinra Empire to replace their current tributary agreement was rejected in no uncertain terms.

Cloud had listened quietly even as Cid was ranting away. It was close to midnight, and Cid had returned with a message from the general himself. Cloud himself had spun his chair around to face the wall instead. He was trying desperately not to show his frustration.

He stared up at the large portrait on the wall. In its place used to be the official portrait of his father, while Aldrich was still alive. Now that he was dead, he had earned himself a place in the center of the wall, the space just behind where the king would sit in the council room. In fact, the entire room was filled with portraits of the kings past. Aldrich’s portrait had been raised that afternoon.

With Aldrich benevolently staring down at him, Cloud felt the full weight of the crown on his shoulders. What was he supposed to do in this case? He knew Sephiroth wasn’t going to take no for an answer, let alone allow them to renegotiate the tributary agreement. There was little chance he was going to get out of it, he knew.

But then he looked up at Aldrich’s portrait, then his father’s next to him, and his grandfather’s next to it, and all along that line leading back up to the founder king of Nibelheim, and he felt the call of duty. If he did the easy thing and went back to Sephiroth, he was destroying their legacy, and the true line of Nibelheim royalty would die with him.

But what was he supposed to do? Sephiroth was completely, utterly serious. If he ended up destroying Nibelheim anyway, there was no legacy, no country that he needed to worry about.

‘-fuck that goddamned rude piece of shit, he didn’t even have the grace to meet me in person. He sent his fucking secretary, forgot what her fucking name was-’

‘Cill,’ Cloud said absently.

‘Yeah, Seal, whatever, that lady is a piece of work. She came out and handed me this fucking letter less than two minutes after I presented our proposal. Jeez, the nerve of those fucks. Are they looking down on us or something?’ Cid furiously spat out his wet cigarette, and stuck another one in.

Vincent laid down the letter calmly on the table. ‘We didn’t expect him to accept this proposal anyway,’ he said. ‘But we’re going to keep trying.’

Cloud spun back around, slowly. He cast his eyes away from the message – which was insultingly simple. _Your proposal to amend the tributary agreement has been duly considered and rejected._ It was written in Sephiroth’s elegant hand, and his signature was the full scrawl he used for official documents. Not just an ‘S’, but his full name.

Vincent toyed with the paper that the message had been written on. ‘I’ve got a few different ideas we could try out, but in the mean time I’ll draw up another proposal.’

‘Aw fuck, you want me leaving for Midgar again tomorrow morning? Fuck that!’ Cid howled.

‘I can take it through on one of the other airships,’ Terrius offered.

Vincent nodded. ‘Perhaps I should come with you. We should try to seek a meeting with him and discuss the terms personally.’ He turned to Cloud. ‘If you give us full authorization, of course.’

Cloud nodded, and tried not to think that it was another day down. Ten days had already elapsed. While things weren’t quite desperate yet, they were certainly looking quite dire. Tomorrow they would start looking into the tributary agreement itself, to see if there were potentially any loopholes they could exploit.

After all, they did not know Sephiroth as well as he did. The general did not rise to his position because he was a genial, reasonable man. He was a man who took and plundered and killed and massacred, and he would not give up easily. Under his stewardship, the reins of the empire was as tightly held as ever. Just like he did not easily put down Masamune, Cloud was afraid that Sephiroth would not let him go as well.

Terrius and Vincent spent three days in Midgar itself, raising Cloud’s hopes temporarily, until they came back and he found out the delay was because they were unable to secure a face-to-face meeting until the morning of the third day itself. Sephiroth had refused to see them, to even give them the due courtesy to an envoy of a tributary nation. And when they did see him, he had shot down all their suggestions at point blank. He’d simply refused to entertain the idea of modifying the tributary agreement in any manner.

Vincent was calm, but even Cloud could see the anger burning in his eyes. ‘He was brusque, no doubt about it. He only said that he wanted his prince consort back,’ Vincent said, then his eyes zeroing in onto Cloud. ‘I don’t understand his obsession over you. Is he in love with you?’

The question was overly personal, and asked in such an abrupt and terse manner that Cloud could feel his hackles raise. He told himself to calm down. It was a perfectly legitimate question. He had to take himself out of the equation. ‘He isn’t,’ Cloud answered coolly. ‘That much I’m sure about.’

‘Then he’s a little kid who won’t give up his favorite toy,’ Cid said thoughtfully. ‘We just need to lure him in with something bigger, something better.’

‘He’s already said no to our proposals,’ Terrius pointed out. ‘What does he want, other than you, Your Highness?’

‘I don’t know,’ Cloud admitted.

They pondered their next move, and agreed that the next logical step would be for Cloud to meet Sephiroth in person, preferably in neutral territory. ‘You know him best,’ Vincent said. ‘If you can’t talk him out of it, we stand no chance. You need to keep your temper,’ he reminded.

‘I know,’ Cloud said. Vincent had seen him from boyhood to man, and was intimately acquainted with his legendary temper, which was both short-fused and explosive when triggered.

‘Then I’ll contact his secretary to set up a meeting at halfway point. Take as much time as you need, Your Highness. Your goal is to convince him to change his mind, using whatever means necessary,’ Vincent said urgently. It remained unspoken, of course, but Cloud understood anyway. He was to whore out his body if that meant they could secure the agreement they needed.

But their sense of urgency went ignored by Sephiroth, who only responded to an agreement to meet in the skies above the Gold Saucer resort area three days later. Because of the obvious memories that it would bring up, Cloud had absolutely refused to conduct the meeting at the true half-way point – Costa Del Sol. It reminded him that was once a place they had fucked to their heart’s content, and that he had been happy, joyful even. Yes, he had been angry, but in the end, Sephiroth had relented and had told him his story. It represented a time of bliss for him, and he wasn’t ready to revisit it. Not when he was so furious with Sephiroth and his streak of stubborn as wide as a continent.

It was day twenty when they finally set off for Gold Saucer. On board was Cloud, as well as Zack and Aerith. Sephiroth had sent out a recall for Zack and his wife to return to Midgar, in anticipation of the potential upcoming hostilities.

The air on the airship itself was terrible – quiet, ominous and uncomfortable. Zack seemed to have something to say but couldn’t quite spit it out, and Aerith’s sadness was visible and frank. Twenty days had already elapsed since the day Sephiroth left, and now he was rapidly running out of time. He had stopped eating or sleeping, and his moods were becoming worse day by day. His anxieties were getting the better of him, and he was barely able to exert any control over them and he began to dread waking up every morning, where an endless stack of work and the fear that he would lead his country to ruin had him in deep thrall of fear.

He began to genuinely contemplate Sephiroth’s offer – to return to his side, where he was happy and content, and to allow Shinra to begin its annexation so in a way, he could still oversee its rule to ensure his people’s welfare. From the way he saw it, perhaps it wasn’t so bad. Not if the potential outcome on their current course would have that happening anyway, but with the added element of many of his citizens dying in the onslaught Cloud knew for certain Sephiroth would bring.

But it didn’t sit well with him. To give up his family’s legacy which had lasted for nearly five hundred years now, and to be the king who lost Nibelheim’s independence. The kingdom may have bowed in the past, but never once broken since its founding. Could he live with the burden that he was the one who had made that decision?

He watched as _Highwind_ approached the garish gold of the resort. Thankfully, they had booked a suite atop of The Aurum Hotel, which would hopefully allow Sephiroth and Cloud to speak freely in complete privacy. Cloud saw this as a potential last chance. He highly doubted his ability to be able to bring Sephiroth out of Midgar one more time for negotiations. He knew the next time Sephiroth left the Tower, it would most likely be to raze Nibelheim to the ground.

He was dressed in full Nibelheim finery. The deep blue cloak fastened to his lapel held Fenrir, the wolf of Nibelheim. He tried to draw strength from the wolf, but nerves overwhelmed his courage. Underneath he wore a midnight blue suit, the one he had worn during the night of the charity ball. He had deeply fond memories of that night, and wanted to channel that good luck again.

He was led to a penthouse suite in The Aurum, his calm face betraying none of the nerves he felt inside. His expressions were well-schooled from years of practice. He wondered if Sephiroth was here yet, and decided he probably wasn’t. Cloud himself was a little early – it was a bad look to be late. But he knew Sephiroth wasn’t used to waiting, and would probably arrive exactly on time.

But he was wrong. He opened the door to reveal the general standing in the middle of the room, stance casual, as if he had just arrived and wondering what to do next. He wasn’t sitting on the couch, nor admiring the views out on the balcony. He simply stood there, katana in his hand. He was dressed in his usual black, long leather jacket – a clear indication that he did not view this negotiation as deserving of his best ceremonial attire. Not good.

At the sight of that long silvery hair, and the way those cat-green eyes turned their cool gaze onto him, he was hurled back into his memories, where he had met Sephiroth on their wedding day. That gaze had looked straight at him with no warmth whatsoever. But now it almost took on something more. Was it affection? It confused and heartened him at the same time. Perhaps there was still hope.

Cloud leaned against the closed door. It had only been twenty days since they had last met. And even on the last day their bodies had fucked each other senseless despite the disagreement that had been rapidly brewing between them. But twenty days had elapsed since then, and suddenly Cloud realized that he hadn’t been touched even once, not even by himself.

Being in Sephiroth’s presence was like walking into a room with heady perfume. He actually felt light-headed, all his senses honing into a narrow pinpoint that was Sephiroth, shutting everything out. He felt blood rush to his head, and he blinked.

‘I’ve missed you,’ Cloud said. Then blinked again. That wasn’t what he had been planning to say in his opening salvo.

‘I’ve missed you too, little cat,’ Sephiroth said, his expression softening visibly.

Cloud blinked again, but now frantically trying to hold back the tears in his eyes.

Sephiroth seemed to understand. Slowly, he opened up his arms.

Cloud’s legs moved as if on their own, gliding forward, then suddenly sprinting the last few steps and into those arms. He buried his head against that chest and the jacket half-covering it, hoping that it would blot away his tears. He inhaled that familiar combination of leather and smell of clean skin – what he now associated as Sephiroth’s innate natural scent. It simultaneously calmed him and shook him.

He lifted his eyes to gaze into those depthless green eyes, but found his mouth being seized in a desperate, hungry fashion. Their lips crashed together, teeth scraping and tongues mingling in a frantic dance that alluded to the torturous absence they had endured separately.

Cloud clutched Sephiroth tightly, who was encircled in his arms. He felt like if he tried hard enough, he could absorb that body into his – then none of these horrible things would come to pass, and all of his problems would be solved. But Sephiroth was no waif – he was tall, muscular and solid, and all Cloud could do was hold on.

Every single time their bodies had met, it had been with a deep hunger. But now, it took on an added angle of desperation.

Sephiroth’s nimble, graceful fingers, now freed of Masamune, reached down to glide down Cloud’s jacket, making quick work of the buttons and the zip on his pants. Cloud aided his efforts by kicking off carefully ironed jacket and pants, tossing them into a heap. He backed Sephiroth up against the bed, practically hurled the both of them onto the thick mattress, which sank slightly under their combined weight.

‘Do you think you can get your own way if you let me fuck you?’ Sephiroth asked.

‘No,’ Cloud murmured. ‘But it’s worth a try.’

They kept kissing each other even as their clothes flew off their bodies, as if by plundering each other’s heat they could stay afloat in the confusing jumble of emotions. There was anger, frustration, lust, fondness, and in Cloud’s case, love too, and all of them worked to drown him and he fought to come to the surface.

Cloud was so hard that his cock, like iron wrapped in velvet, curled toward his belly, leaking pre-come. He didn’t have to touch himself to heighten that sensation of pleasure. Being physically close to Sephiroth was enough to do the trick.

He loved that closeness of their bare skins, their bodies jammed together, arms intertwined so tightly around each other it was hard to tell where one began and another ended. He loved the way those fingers danced along his thighs, tickling him until they were sucked into that greedy little hole that always yearned to be filled, to be plundered, to be battered. Sephiroth’s fingers went in easily, with the generous slick that he had coated himself in earlier.

He felt himself open up, and that very feeling itself compelled him to loosen his muscles, and he spread his legs wider in a bid to fuck himself deeper on those fingers. He stared into Sephiroth’s eyes, those beautiful green eyes now hooded in lust and want. And Cloud reveled in the power that only he could grant that right here, right now.

His hands tightened around Sephiroth’s shoulders, and they were so well-versed in reading each other’s bodies that Sephiroth instantly knew what he wanted. He withdrew his fingers, and in its place Cloud could feel his secret place deep down inside throbbing, aching for fullness.

And he could only let out a deep, contented sigh when Sephiroth’s cock entered him. It was like a reunion of sorts, a tiny feeling of homecoming. With his eyes locked onto Sephiroth’s, he began to move at a languid, easy pace, clenching his muscles and listening to the swift, sharp intake of breath from Sephiroth every time he did it.

He felt Sephiroth lower him down to the mattress, gently, as he would a lover. Those strong hands gripped his hips, and Cloud held onto to the headboard, bracing himself. When he slammed himself home, it was brutal and electrifying, and Cloud shouted his surprise.

He should have known, though. The general had a streak of sadist in him, and had proved to be a highly skilled lover. He enjoyed pushing Cloud to the brink, each time, every time. Their lovemaking had never been romantic nor dreamy. It was filthy, it was mind-blowing, and every time they fucked it felt like Sephiroth had him by the collar, dragging his ass down the rocky roller-coaster road to a pleasure that felt closer like oblivion.

The pace was punishing, but somehow he managed to keep up with it, although it could be said he was barely surviving, letting himself be tossed about by the rough, choppy waves of pleasure, gliding and thrashing until the orgasm crept up and took him by surprise, like a punch to the face.

He felt his used body fall limp, his heart beating so fast that all he could hear was the pounding in his ears. Wondering for a dazed moment if he had blacked out, he roared back into consciousness, with his every nerve screaming even while clenched around Sephiroth, who showed no signs of slowing down.

‘Too much,’ Cloud gritted out behind clenched teeth. The stars had exploded behind his eyes, and he felt almost light-headed. He couldn’t take anymore, or he was afraid he would break. His body was limp as a rag, yet his nerves were stretched taut. He couldn’t fight off the assault, and his treacherous body, as if responding to a siren’s call, began arching itself upwards so his tight heat could encapsulate Sephiroth’s almost violent thrusting.

‘I can’t,’ Cloud choked out.

‘You can,’ Sephiroth whispered, so low and deep that it sounded filthy. It sent an involuntary shudder through Cloud, who only tightened his grip around Sephiroth’s shoulders. In response, Sephiroth modified his thrusting angle a little slightly, and Cloud didn’t know how it was possible that it was more pleasurable than before.

‘Fuck,’ he cried, then held on.

His hand moved to his own cock, now half-erect and stirring, stroking up and down, firing off another string of pleasure that burst in his veins like fireworks. He closed his eyes, shouted until his voice failed, and he could only gasp as he was pounded furiously into the mattress.

Together, they raced to the precipice, and then leapt off the boundless edge, soaring blindly until they tumbled back into a sweat-drenched, hazy reality.

Now that the lust was temporarily sated, he felt like his mind could finally clear. And there were crucial negotiations at hand. They cleaned up, got dressed, and sat across each other at the breakfast table. Somehow the hard chairs felt more appropriate than the soft couches.

Sephiroth wasted no time with his opening salvo. ‘I’m not changing my mind, Cloud,’ he said.

Cloud fought the despair. This was never supposed to be easy. ‘I know,’ he said. He walked over to the corner, picked up the sword that rested there. He placed it on the table, turned the hilt so it was facing Sephiroth. ‘You should take this back.’

Sephiroth looked down at the Fusion Sword. ‘Why?’

‘It doesn’t feel right for me to keep it when we’re at such odds.’

A twinge of expression crossed Sephiroth’s face before it smoothed out again. ‘Keep it. It was a gift to you. I don’t want it back.’ He looked at Cloud. ‘You’ve lost weight. And you look exhausted.’

Cloud shrugged. ‘The workload’s punishing. I’m starting to understand why you didn’t come home until late evening sometimes.’ He didn’t want to mention that his anxiety, and the fear of Sephiroth was getting the better of him. Somehow it felt like a surrender.

‘When you get back to Midgar, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.’ Sephiroth didn’t say ‘if’, he said ‘when’. The absolutely certainty in which he spoke and that confidence should have been rattling to Cloud, but instead he let it go. It was the man he knew, the general whose confidence had won him half his battles.

‘I’m not coming back,’ Cloud said.

Sephiroth’s gaze turned flinty. ‘Then why am I here?’

‘Sephiroth, please. We don’t have to resort to a war,’ Cloud said. ‘Could you at least consider the goodwill we’ve had in the past and try to solve this in a peaceful manner?’

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth said. ‘As long as fulfil my only stipulation.’

Cloud forced his temper to back down. ‘I’m not a thing, Sephiroth! I’m a living, breathing human being, and if you have any consideration for me at all, then you would take my consent, or lack thereof, into your decision to impose your goddamned will on me.’ He prayed for calm.

Sephiroth’s face was like a placid lake, that cold calm never once shifting. Cloud’s emotions were like invisible stones, always being hurled but never once breaking the surface. ‘Why are you so eager to leave me?’

‘I didn’t want to!’ Cloud said, then immediately realized his mistake. But it was too late, for the canny lion had seen a weakness in the tapestry, and had immediately began pouncing.

‘You don’t want to?’ Sephiroth asked. ‘Then why are you doing it? I have offered you a solution. You can still rule Nibelheim from Midgar. If the title of king means so much to you, you can keep it. All I ask is one thing.’

‘For me to return to Midgar,’ Cloud said bitterly.

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth answered affirmatively, then narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘With your full consent, and cooperation.’

Cloud’s laugh was acrid and sour. ‘Of course. Wouldn’t want to have a sulky, bitchy consort, would we?’ He lapsed into silence, and breathed through his nose. ‘All right. Let’s say I come back to Midgar. How on earth would I rule Nibelheim from the Tower? My country is half a day by the fastest airship.’

‘The same way I run the empire,’ Sephiroth said, shrugging elegantly. ‘I will acknowledge while it isn’t as easy as running it on site, but I’ve found that it largely works.’

‘And if it doesn’t work out, what then?’ Cloud challenged. ‘You’re going to let me go home to Nibelheim?’

‘For the rest of your life?’ Sephiroth asked. ‘No. A visit, yes.’

Cloud was sure that no one could blame him if his temper flared at this point. ‘Why are you so insisting on treating me like an object who can’t make decisions for himself?’

‘Because you’re making the wrong decision,’ Sephiroth said. And before Cloud could reach over and smack the bejesus out of him, he said the most heart-stopping thing. ‘How else would you explain the choices of a man who’s turning his back on the spouse he loves for a throne that he never wanted in the first place?’

Of all things he could say, this was one that threw him for a spin the most. He thought he had kept it well under wraps – the newly blooming, ridiculously inconvenient feelings that he had developed for his cold fish of a husband. He didn’t know that Sephiroth had found out. Had he been that transparent?

But it didn’t matter. So what if Sephiroth knew that Cloud’s fondness for his spouse exceeded that of a platonic affection?

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Cloud said. ‘Love is nothing. Duty is everything. And at the end of the day, Sephiroth, our feelings are not mutual. Being in love with you is my problem, not yours. I didn’t ask for your reciprocation. You don’t love me anyway.’ Gods, could he have sounded more pathetic and bratty?

‘But I feel like I could,’ Sephiroth said, so matter-of-factly that it stunned Cloud. ‘I think given time, I could grow to have feelings for you. But I’m not willing to let you squander this opportunity, and end the relationship before it’s been given a chance to begin. It’s not just your decision to throw away this marriage, my prince. And if my consent has anything to do with it, you know where I stand.’

Sephiroth _could_ grow to love him?

He was simultaneously encouraged and disappointed by Sephiroth’s choice of words.

‘Duty trumps love, Sephiroth. We could love each other until the fucking cows come home, but this is a responsibility that my blood has brought me, and destiny has thrusted me into. I have to do this.’

‘But do you?’ Sephiroth challenged. ‘As for your suggestion that duty should trump love, I wholeheartedly disagree. I made the same choice five years ago that you are trying to make now. Trust me, it’s easy to say or do, but reality is a whole different matter.’

Cloud wondered how much he had loved Rufus Shinra. It was true that Sephiroth had chosen his duty over his love for Rufus. He could have spared him, but he had not. Was he trying to make reparations now?

In any case, he was Cloud Strife of Nibelheim. He was _not_ Rufus Shinra.

But he could not deny that the offer was very, very tempting. Sephiroth was given him the equivalent of having a cake and eating it too – although it was half a crappy cake, he knew. His pride might have let him take this deal, but would his council allow for this arrangement? And yes, he was the king and could simply enact the agreement himself, but he had lived with these people, loved them, and valued their respect and love.

Did he even have a real alternative?

‘I’m not Rufus Shinra,’ he snapped furiously. ‘Do not compare me to him.’

Sephiroth ignored him.

‘My prince, I will not begin any proceedings to annex Nibelheim until you have made a decision. It is in your hands, as it has been from the beginning. I offered you a choice. You did not like it. Now we will do it my way. There is no real need to waste our time on negotiations here, I believe. I will not change my mind, and it looks like you will not change yours.’

Cloud could feel desperation crowd in on him until he could barely breathe. His eyes started stinging, and he wasn’t sure what was happening until Sephiroth’s gloved thumb was on his cheek, wiping away the lone tear that had splashed down.

‘Why won’t you let me go?’ he whispered.

Sephiroth retracted his hand. ‘You can ask me for anything else, my little cat. I will do anything for you. I can make you the happiest man in the world, or I can burn the world for you.’ He sighed. ‘But do not ask me for this. I simply … cannot give it to you.’


	15. Chapter 15

The last twenty days since he had left Nibelheim had been a waking nightmare.

Once he got back to Midgar, he had thrown himself into his usual routine, but pushed harder than usual. The morning after their first spar together, Genesis had bitched about how Sephiroth was really trying to kill him. He had continually raged for ten minutes straight before muttering curses under his breath, about how he would kill Sephiroth in his sleep and give the world a new hero. Sephiroth pretended not to hear any of it, and marched back into the empty apartment. He took a perfunctory shower, and threw himself into work.

But once the tediousness and banality of work had been a balm to his wounded soul, now it was just a wretched chore that he was no longer amused by. He scrawled his name rather bad-temperedly across the documents that had the bad luck to come across his desk, and there was one specific report that he had punctured a hole into when his thoughts had drifted and landed on a specific golden-headed spouse. But even if he tried to not think of him, it was hard to do so. Every goddamned other day he would get a message from Nibelheim, either via a written message or a personal envoy.

He held no false hopes that any of the messages would contain the answer he wanted; the capitulation he craved. If his prince consort had any intention of coming home he would have just returned to Midgar. The messages were pointless, annoying and a complete waste of his time. The envoys were worse; they were irritating and an even bigger waste of his time. Especially that one they called Cid Highwind – the rough-talking, uncivilized prick was a special thorn in his side, and would harass him endlessly until he got a reply or an audience.

The measures turned more and more desperate, from negotiations to outright pleas, to trying to poke a hole into the tributary agreement, which unfortunately for them, was watertight. Sephiroth knew this for certain because once upon a time, long before the wedding had taken place, he himself had tried to get out of it, and had been unable to do so. If he was stuck, then so was Cloud. The only loophole there was if Sephiroth himself had been replaced by another emperor. And since he had no intentions of dying anytime soon, the Nibelheimians were shit out of luck.

After countless rounds of harassment by the Nibel envoys, he finally agreed to meet with Cloud. Besides Cloud actually walking back into Midgar himself, this was the next best thing. Sephiroth wanted to see him; perhaps, it was another opportunity to convince Cloud to see the error of his ways.

And he could admit to himself that he missed his consort too.

When Cloud had met him at the Aurum Hotel in Gold Saucer, he had taken the opportunity to recall Zack Fair and Aerith Gainsborough. He was afraid that they were drawing close to actual warfare, and it was unnecessary to have Fair and his wife on hostile territory. He liked Fair, and he enjoyed spanking the shit out of him during their spars, which was exactly what he did when Fair returned to Midgar.

Genesis was not on speaking terms with him, and Angeal was wisely avoiding Sephiroth. He couldn’t blame them, his moods were terrible. He was always professional and polite, but now he was sarcastic and irritable, irascible to the point where he would cut them down with a glare or a word. Even the ever-efficient Cill couldn’t escape his temper. He had seen her near tears when he had snapped at her.

To say the meeting at Gold Saucer was unproductive and useless was understating it. 

He had spent a grand total of one day in Gold Saucer, holed up in that little suite at the hotel with Cloud. They fucked and he cried, then fall asleep together. Woke up to argue, and then fuck and fall asleep again. He left the next morning itself, finding it completely pointless to stay. Cloud wasn’t going to change his mind, and they were merely prolonging the inevitable pain.

There was a very pathetic part inside of him that had been tempted to stay in that little bed forever, as long as Cloud was naked and next to him. But Sephiroth was used to denying himself things. It wasn’t ever going to be, and it certainly wasn’t possible, so he summoned the last of his tattered willpower and left.

They had arrived back in Midgar just around noon, and he had spent the morning lost in his own thoughts. He had gone straight to the apartment, and fell into their empty bed. He could still smell Cloud on him – on his jacket, on his hair, on his skin.

His empty arms ached.

But he had soldiered on. That was what he had been trained to do. He accepted his pain, and didn’t look back.

As the days counted down, the missives from Nibelheim grew more frantic. They were outright pleas now, desperate last minute tactics or tricks that was meant to buy more time. And each time, Sephiroth’s answer was simple: no.

Why would he want a spouse when he already had one?

Why did he have to be the one to give up something?

Why did he have to the bigger person?

He only wanted one person by his side, and he knew of only one way to do it.

He issued commands for the infantry to ready themselves, and the possibility of deploying within a handful of days.

It was a testament to Cloud’s quiet popularity with those within Sephiroth’s circle that they began appealing to him fairly soon after that, and without prompting either. Cloud had only known them for a month, but it seemed that he had won their hearts.

The first to crack was Zack, which didn’t surprise him at all. He had a soft spot for Cloud, and that was part of the reason why he had been sent to escort Cloud back to Nibelheim. They were friends.

He traipsed into his office mere hours after he sent down his orders. Sephiroth noted that he wasted no time at all. ‘My lord,’ Zack started.

‘Save it,’ Sephiroth said.

But Zack was bullish and optimistic, and he would not let Sephiroth’s irritable tone sidetrack him. ‘General-’

‘Enough, Zack. I know what you want to say,’ Sephiroth said wearily.

‘Sephiroth!’ Zack crossed his arms and frowned. ‘I considered not saying this-’

‘Then don’t say it.’

‘-but I feel like I have no choice but to say it. As your friend.’

‘We’re not friends.’

‘Yes, we are,’ Zack said. ‘You ate brunch at my place, so that makes us friends.’

‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘All right … I spar regularly with you. That makes us friends.’

‘That makes me your superior officer and you my underling whom I occasionally spar with.’

‘Er … not at all. I don’t see you sparring with anyone else. But … I am your friend. I know you like me.’

‘Not that much,’ Sephiroth snapped. ‘Spit it out, Fair, or get out. You’re wasting my time.’

‘Sephiroth …’ Zack’s buoyant tone dropped into a somber one. ‘As your friend, I wanted to tell you …’

Sephiroth gripped his pen in his fist, waited.

‘You’re not going to get him back this way,’ Zack finished.

Sephiroth went stiff. He knew what Zack was going to say, but it wasn’t easy hearing it anyway. ‘Then how on Gaia would I get him back?’

Zack’s shoulders drooped. ‘I don’t know either. All I know is that going to war isn’t going to win him back.’

‘I’m not trying to win him back,’ Sephiroth said curtly.

‘Well, your way is going to make things worse.’

‘Then what do you propose I do, O Sage One?’ Sephiroth mocked.

‘I don’t know! Maybe just let him be! You understand duty more than anyone else, Sephiroth. You know he feels compelled to step up to fulfil his late brother’s responsibilities. It’s not a personal slight, you know. Maybe just wait for him. Wait for him to come back to you.’

‘And how long is that going to take?’ Sephiroth snapped. ‘One month? Two years? Ten years? Never?’

Zack’s usual irritating cheer was replaced by shades of dismay. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘But isn’t that better than invading his country to demand his return?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth said. ‘It’s not better. But I don’t have another way, short of giving up my position here and following him to Nibelheim. Would you like to take over instead, Fair? I don’t mind giving my position to you. I made this choice because the prince consort belongs to me legally, and I to him. He’s reneging on the deal, not me. If he won’t return voluntarily, then I will annex Nibelheim so he has no choice but to return to Midgar.’

‘But-’

‘There’s no buts about it, Fair. This is my choice, and I have made my decision. Now, unless you have something different to say, I suggest you get out of my office. I have work to do.’

Zack walked out like a kicked puppy.

The next one to approach him was Angeal, who waited until their spar finished the next morning before he broached the topic. ‘Hey,’ he said.

‘What?’ Sephiroth said irritably. He was starting to be able to predict what they were about to say from the way they started the conversations. It felt like almost everyone in his circle had approached him – it had started from Tuesti, who masked his concern behind professionalism, questioning his choices and how it would impact Shinra policy or diplomacy.

But the worst was possibly when that fucking asshole Kunsel had barged into his office, shrieking about how it was a public relations disaster to launch a war on his in-laws because his husband wouldn’t come home. That had been the exact way Kunsel had worded it too, which was enough to prompt Sephiroth to get to his feet slowly, and Kunsel had practically run out the door. Which was exceedingly unfortunate, because Sephiroth had been really looking forward to manually removing Kunsel from his office.

Angeal detected the open irritation in his tone, and switched tacks. ‘How are you doing?’

Sephiroth refused to meet his friend in the eye. Instead, he chugged his bottle of water, feeling heat and sweat pouring off him. ‘Why does it matter how I’m doing?’

Angeal shrugged. In a way, Sephiroth tolerated everyone coming after his ass for what he was choosing to do. But of all people, Angeal was the one who he was most sensitive to. Perhaps it was because his even-temperedness made Sephiroth feel like shit when he snapped. Or perhaps it was his endless well of patience and understanding in his eyes that made Sephiroth feel ashamed.

Or perhaps it was because five years ago, he was the only one who knew that Sephiroth had loved Rufus Shinra, and despite that knowledge, had supported him through his coup. Even though Rufus had been utterly undeserving of his love, for many years Sephiroth could not deny the depths of his feelings when it came to that man.

‘Say what you want, Angeal,’ Sephiroth snarled. ‘Everyone has.’

‘Are you sure?’ Angeal said, in an echo of his words from five years ago. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

Sephiroth had no hesitation whatsoever. He lost one blond before, by his own hands, and he wasn’t about let fate take another. Whatever the cost, he would pay it. Just like five years ago. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. And that had been the end of it.

But not with Genesis. As Missions Director of SOLDIER, he had been ordered to ready the troops and deploy them into Nibelheim. Genesis had returned his document with a red stamp with the bold words ‘REJECTED’. Sephiroth had then gone ahead and activated the chain of command himself.

When every single one of his SOLDIERs had received their marching orders, Genesis had practically kicked down Sephiroth’s door, his flamboyant crimson coat swirling around his ankles, his red hair matching the flush of anger on his pale skin.

‘Sephiroth, you stupid fuck!’ he had bellowed as he walked into the room.

Sephiroth had been frustrated enough to stand, yank Masamune off its hinges in time to meet Genesis’s drawn Rapier. Normally, if he had his wits about him, he would just sit there, and let Genesis have his temper tantrum. It was just typical of Genesis. But today he had been in a terrible mood. From the corner of his eye, he could see his secretary Cill jump out of her seat in fear, unaccustomed to him losing his temper like this.

That was enough to shame him into lowering his sword. ‘What do you want, Genesis? Whatever that you’ve come to tell me off about, say it now,’ he said witheringly, before turning his back and returning to his seat.

What was wrong with him? He was becoming unhinged. He had been fine after his return from Midgar. Not happy, but fine. But that visit to Gold Saucer to meet Cloud for negotiations had broken him. All he could think about was that pliable, open body underneath him, hard and soft and wet and hot at the same time. What if that was the last time he could touch him? How the fuck on Gaia did that bratty spoiled prince worm his way under his skin and into his heart despite all the precautions he had taken? Why this specific prince, one that had the crown in his destiny?

Genesis seemed a little startled by Sephiroth’s response that it took him a while to drop into the visitor’s chair in front of him. Angeal might be Sephiroth’s most steadfast friend, but Genesis was another thing altogether. They were so close that their friendship was tinged with a frank rivalry, and an honest attraction with an underlying flirtation that Genesis always brought to the surface. He was magnetic, charismatic and passionate – qualities that drew Sephiroth to him. Perhaps in another lifetime, they could have been lovers.

‘You cannot possibly be serious about the annexation of Nibelheim,’ Genesis said. ‘Wutai was a lifetime ago, and the coup was merely five years ago. This is a pyrrhic war, Sephiroth. Do you even know the definition of the phrase, or are you too dense of a motherfucker to know what it truly means? What the hell good is that going to do you? Are you allergic to peace or something? You’re itching for a war? We don’t need more bloodshed on our hands.’

Only Genesis could speak to him that way and get away with it.

‘It won’t be a war,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Nibelheim can’t put up half the fight that Wutai did. They simply lack the numbers.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Genesis said. ‘It’s going to be a goddamned massacre. And then what? You’re going to drag the poor prince consort back here by his neck over the speedbumps made by his dead citizens who sacrificed themselves just because you want to wet your dick?’

‘If I have to,’ Sephiroth said unrepentantly but calmly, after an offended pause.

‘What kind of barbarian are you?’ Genesis sniffed haughtily. ‘I want no fucking part of this, you hear? I like the prince consort, Sephiroth. I think you two are a good match. But if you’re going to war over this, he’s not worth it. I told you before, if he’s hot, fuck him and get it out of your system. You’ll find someone else in no time. Hell, I’ll fucking warm your bed if you’re that desperate.’

Sephiroth glared at him. ‘Genesis, shut up. We are annexing Nibelheim in three days, whether you like it or not. Now get the missions sorted like you were supposed to in the first place and get out of my fucking office.’ He pressed the intercom button connecting his phone to Cill’s. ‘Cill, no more visitors from now on until my say so. Especially Genesis Rhapsodos. Once he leaves my office, don’t let him back in.’

Genesis stared at him with open outrage and contempt. Then he shook his head. ‘You’ve got it bad, don’t you? You poor, stupid sap. Fuck.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Then do me a favor.’

‘No,’ Sephiroth barked.

‘Let me lead the troops,’ Genesis said. ‘In your place.’

Sephiroth paused. ‘Why?’ he asked guardedly.

‘Because I’m afraid you’re going to fucking burn down the whole of Nibelheim in order to get to your consort,’ Genesis said. ‘I have more restraint than you, partially because I’m not a savage and because I’m not thinking with my dick. Let me do this. If I fail at retrieving him, then you can take over.’

Sephiroth leaned back in his chair. ‘You want a chance to speak to him.’

Genesis did not deny it. ‘He’s a nice man. He’s just confused. He just needs more time, and maybe someone else to convince him he’s not married to some kind of philistine. He’s just lost his brother, for goodness’ sake. Have a heart, Sephiroth. I know you don’t have one, but for appearance’s sake at least pretend you have one.’

Sephiroth let the insults roll off him. ‘He won’t change his mind.’

‘But I can certainly try, can’t I?’ Genesis said testily. ‘At any rate, if we can work this out without resorting to violence, it would be the best for everyone.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Seriously, the two of you. Both stubborn boors with no sense of time and place. Getting us all involved in a marital spat and threatening each other with a war.’ He shook his head, condescension written in every feature of his face.

‘Fine,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Do whatever you want, as long as you get out of my face.’

Genesis flounced to his feet. ‘I will, thank you,’ he sniffed, staring down at Sephiroth. ‘Give me three days. If I don’t succeed, then you do whatever the hell you want. At least then I can say that I’ve tried. This world clearly needs a new hero. It’s obvious that you’ve lost your damned mind.’

Genesis could go be a hero all he wanted, Sephiroth didn’t care. But he wasn’t wrong – Sephiroth did feel like he had lost his mind. Why did this one man matter so much to him? Logically, it made no sense. They had only known each other for a month. When he had been informed that the prince had arrived in Midgar, he had taken no notice at all. His plan had been simple – get married and then leave each other the fuck alone.

But from the very first private moment they had shared together, he had been drawn inexplicably to doing something else instead. It baffled him, this primal, base attraction they had to each other. But beyond the lust there was something else. Cloud was his match in sparring – perhaps not in skill, but his indefatigable willpower reminded him a little of himself. He admired the prince consort for his quiet confidence, his easy popularity and likeability. And Sephiroth had trusted him implicitly to tell him a story that not even his closest friends had access to, although he was sure that they had put it together themselves.

And then he had upped and left, said his goodbyes and chose a destiny that was not aligned with Sephiroth’s. The sense of betrayal he had felt was tremendous and shattering. Perhaps because no matter how checkered his past and the terrible choices he had made, no one ever had the audacity to betray his trust that way.

And all his friends were trying to dissuade him against retaliation, which was his right and what he deserved.

But one of them waited until the very last day to speak with him.

On the thirtieth day, he awoke in his own bed, uncharacteristically fatigued. All the people around him had been on tenterhooks for a while, and he simply wasn’t in the mood to deal with them. So for the first time in the fifteen years he had served the Shinra empire, he took a day off for himself.

He ordered a hot bath drawn, and soaked himself in the boiling waters for as long as he could. That tired dread did not go away. So he slid back under the sheets, and closed his eyes.

When he woke up, it was nearly noon. He got dressed, ate sparingly from the breakfast and lunch trays that had been left out for him. Masamune felt heavy in his hand as he picked her up. He sat alone on the balcony, the sword resting by the leg of his chair as he stared out at the blue sky, at the white fluffy puffs that floated by lazily.

Which was a mistake, because those puffs reminded him of their namesake, as did that specific color that reminded him of his eyes.

The doorbell rang, breaking him out of his aimless reverie. He got up, and opened the door. And blinked.

Zack’s wife was standing on the other side of the door. On her own.

‘Good afternoon, General,’ she said, a small confident smile hovering around her lips. ‘May I come in?’

He wanted to say no, that he wasn’t in the mood for visitors. But he couldn’t. And not for the first time he wondered what power this woman had over him. Perhaps in a different life, or an alternate universe, he owed her. In this life, however, he merely opened the door, and she practically skipped through.

He returned to his seat at the balcony. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, the metal chair with the ornate carvings around the small, unstable table. But comfort was nothing to him. He had been uncomfortable countless times while training in SOLDIER, while camping in a wet, rain-drenched tent in Wutai, and when facing down a barrage of press reporters and photographers at a useless gala or another.

Cloud had found the chairs and round table at a vintage furniture store down in the slums the last time they had visited, and had fallen in love with them. He had excitedly purchased them, but by the time they had been delivered, he had already left town.

Sephiroth felt like the table and chair set. Left behind, unwanted. He waited until Aerith sat down opposite him, and he turned to her, one eyebrow raised in question.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked him.

He blinked. She was offering to make him tea in his apartment?

Without really waiting for an answer, Aerith got up, and headed to the kitchen, where she managed to boil some water, and toss tea leaves into two mugs. As the tea was steeping, she brought it back out to the balcony, pushed one over to him. And sipped her own.

‘Mrs. Fair,’ he began.

‘Aerith,’ she interrupted.

After a small pause, he continued. ‘Aerith. Is there something I can help you with?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ she said politely.

Sephiroth waited.

She smiled innocently, those luminous green eyes staring up at him.

While the silence seemed not to bother Aerith, it made him uncomfortable. ‘And what would that be?’ he asked politely, but now there was an edge to his voice. He was starting to understand that this woman was not an easy character to contend with. She had some kind of mysterious strength that powered her confidence and smile. And the fact that he was doing everything she wanted him to do so far both confused and worried him.

‘I just wanted to make sure you’re all right, my lord.’ She reached out, placed a small, warm hand on his as he held the mug.

He stared down at her hand, but she did not retract it. Not only that, but she continued looking into his eyes. And the worse part was that he could not tear his gaze away. She was a beautiful woman, but beyond that … It was like she could look into his soul.

He averted his gaze. ‘I’m fine,’ he said shortly.

‘It must not be easy for you,’ she said. ‘Do you miss him?’

It was clear that she already knew his answer. And it was such a simple question. But it was the first time someone had asked him such an open, honest question. It felt like she was ripping his heart open and digging into the guts.

But most of all, he surprised himself by actually answering the question. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do.’

She did not move her hand, and instead, gave his a comforting squeeze.

‘Are you here to talk me out of what I’m going to do tomorrow?’ Sephiroth asked, suddenly feeling like he needed to go on the offense. Anything but be on the back foot.

Aerith only stared at him. ‘Why? Is that going to change your mind?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Nothing anyone can say or do will change my mind.’

‘Save one,’ Aerith said. ‘If he walks back into your arms.’

Sephiroth tightened his lips.

She finally withdrew her hand. ‘I haven’t known the prince consort very long, but from what I can see, he is a very kind man.’

‘Stubborn,’ Sephiroth said.

Aerith only shrugged. ‘No more than you or I. Everyone’s stubborn about the things they believe in. But my lord, the prince consort is a good man. A loving, and dutiful man. You know your actions will only hurt him.’

Sephiroth did not respond, and Aerith took it as encouragement to continue.

‘If you wage war on his beloved kingdom, it will only drive him further away. After all, his loyalty remains with Nibelheim. He’s only been in Midgar for a month, which is nothing compared to the lifetime of service and duty he’s performed as a prince of Nibelheim. You’re forcing him to choose between Nibelheim and you.’ Aerith’s eyes were frank and her words forthright. ‘There’s no doubt which he would choose.’

‘I know that,’ Sephiroth gritted out, his voice much more curt than he wanted it to be. But Aerith didn’t seem to take offense. ‘Tell me, Aerith. Am I supposed to let him go just like that?’

‘Yes,’ she said, simply, and with sadness in her tone.

‘I won’t do it,’ he snapped.

‘If you love him, you will,’ Aerith said. ‘You will want his happiness more than anything.’

Sephiroth paused. ‘I don’t love him.’

The look Aerith raked him with bordered on amused contempt.

Was she right? Had he fallen for Cloud in such a short time, despite declaring at their first night together that it would never happen? Despite hardening his heart, Cloud had somehow snuck past his defenses?

If he had fallen indeed, wouldn’t it make all of this even worse? Was he an angry, jilted lover too eager to use force and violence to snatch back what was his?

‘How did you know?’ he finally asked.

Aerith chuckled softly, and showed a streak of easy humor that he had never known she possessed. ‘I’ve got eyeballs in my head, my lord. I can see what he means to you, and what you mean to him.’

Suddenly he wanted an answer. He didn’t believe in a supreme being, or a god. So this woman, with wisdom shining from her beautiful green eyes, was as good as any creator god. Perhaps she could give it to him. ‘What am I supposed to do then?’

‘You know what to do,’ Aerith said. ‘Just remember – he is a kind, loving man. And above all, he is dutiful and faithful. You have to trust that he will come back to you. You just have to create the right conditions for his return.’

Sephiroth gripped his mug. ‘That will take too long.’

‘You can wait, my lord. You’ve waited this long to find the prince consort, you can wait a little more. You have to give him the choice. War will only change the love he has for you into hate. Even if you win this war, and he comes home to Midgar with you, he will always resent you. Or he will keep running. Is that what you want for the rest of your life?’

‘It’s better than not having him in my life,’ Sephiroth said.

Aerith shook her head. ‘No, it’s not. And you know it. Give him the choice, and trust him.’

‘That’s an awfully large gamble,’ Sephiroth said.

‘It’s life.’ Aerith shrugged, but it wasn’t dismissiveness in her tone, merely a contented acceptance. ‘My lord, you may be the best swordsman in the world, and the leader of an empire, and you command the respect and fear of all your subjects, but at the end of the day, you’re just human. You’re no different than the rest of us.’

Sephiroth only sat straighter, his stance stiff. The conversation was difficult, but it rang only of the truth. It hurt, it stung, but it was also the nature of things. Aerith had not uttered any falsehoods, her straightforward words easier to swallow because it was tempered in kindness.

She sat there quietly, content not to push.

In the end, he only said, ‘I’ll keep your words in mind.’

‘That’s all I ask for,’ she said, then placed her graceful hands on the table. ‘I must be going now. I promised Zack a spar, and I want to get home to pick up my things before I’m too late.’

Those words were spoken in such a way that it reminded him terribly of Cloud. His little cat knew the way to his heart, always speaking about spars in that half-conversational, half-invitational tone. And it would get Sephiroth every time. If he didn’t have to get any work done, he would most likely spend his entire day fighting and sparring.

‘You spar?’

‘Occasionally,’ she smiled sweetly at him. ‘Although I’m not a swordsperson myself, I’d consider myself rather handy with a staff with a few materia slots.’

‘And your level?’ Sephiroth asked, referring to the testing and classification levels that every magic user had to go through in order to legally equip and utilize materia.

‘I’m a Level 1 magic user,’ Aerith said, and Sephiroth was reluctantly surprised and impressed. He himself was a Level 1, as well as Genesis. Even Angeal and Zack had struggled to reach Level 1 through a lot of sweat and tears. She looked at him. ‘The prince consort did mention to me before that you greatly enjoy your sparring sessions. Care to join us?’

Why the hell not? Instead of him sitting around in dread and anxiety for a person that he knew now would not materialize, he could spend a few hours fighting a new opponent or her husband. Possibly both of them at the same time. Despite himself, his heart lifted a little.

In the end, he did not take it easy on them. He did not need to. He knew from experience Zack Fair could take a pretty good licking, and Sephiroth thrashed him to within an inch of his life. But with Aerith by Fair’s side, who was unquestionably adept at using her magic, her spell-casting abilities as swift as the swing of a sword at times, posed enough of a challenge to keep him occupied for the next couple of hours.

Aerith spun her staff, slashed it downwards swiftly, which he deflected with the blunt edge of his katana. Behind him, Zack was approaching, so he turned in time to parry a strike aimed at his shoulder. From the corner of his eye he could see Aerith charging her materia up and launching an attack on him, which forced him to relinquish his hold and dance out of the way, circling them until he had both of them within his sight again.

He managed to work up a good sweat, his mind clearing for the first time in days. When the spar was over, Aerith was on the ground, Zack cuddling a sweaty arm around her. The two of them were sharing a bottle of water, and despite his indifference, even he knew he was the third wheel here.

They spoke to each other with soft words, affection shining from Zack, while she practically emanating sweetness and light. They seemed so in love, so in sync. Sephiroth had to look away, feeling like he was intruding. The little tinge of envy he felt was unnecessary, yet so very human. He wondered why it couldn’t be like that for him and Cloud. Instead, there was a crown standing in between them.

He excused himself, left the two of them alone with each other.

The apartment was still cursedly empty. He sat back down on the balcony chair, watched the sun go down, and the orange haze transform into a deep dusk that led to night. And no matter how much his brain told him not to get his hopes up, he still waited.

He waited until the clock struck midnight.

Sephiroth picked up his PHS and issued the standing commands for the fleet to deploy to Nibelheim. Then he put it down and stared into the inky blackness of night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text 1 to trout slap Sephiroth. Text 2 to trout slap Coud. Text 3 to slap the both of them.


	16. Chapter 16

They arrived with the first light of dawn.

It was like a fucking parade. The flagship led the others with a crimson banner and Shinra flag hoisted up high, a magnificent beast of orange and crimson, like a fireball in the sky. The _Ifrit_ was a commanding presence in itself, but behind it was an entire fleet comprising of Shinra’s most powerful airships. It was meant to intimidate, and it accomplished that instantly.

These Flying Fortresses and their names were so famous that they were common knowledge among the Nibelheimians. After all, the empire had two major strengths – the SOLDIER program and their armada of airships. They were a mighty force to be reckoned with, and they meant serious business. The _Leviathan_ was sleek and slight, but its movement and high speed meant it had powerful offensive capabilities. The _Shiva_ was a thing of beauty, elegant and exquisite, like a sparkling blue crystal, but it had the damage potential of even the _Bahamut_ , a bulky, black airship built like a torpedo and rocket all in one, flying just beside her. The rest of them he did not know by name, but they were monstrous inventions, made only to rain down fire and destruction wherever they went.

However, he did not spot _Meteorfall_ , which was a surprise in itself. He knew it was Sephiroth’s favorite airship, and he pretty much took it all the time. So the fact that it wasn’t there was … perhaps a little reassuring. Sephiroth might not have threatened to personally drag his ass back to Midgar, but Cloud was certain that he wouldn’t send someone else to do the job.

He had been watching for a while now. Sleep eluded him, especially when the fate of his kingdom lay wide open, exposed. While most of Nibelheim slept, he alone stood from the highest vantage point. His heart had thudded in fear and disappointment when he first spied those vague shapes moving in the darkness. By the time light had touched the horizon, that fear had dulled down to a deep sadness, a despondency that sapped him of all energy and willpower.

That might very well have been the point of Sephiroth sending what looked like half the Shinra fleet of airships to Nibelheim. The military might and over-the-top display was meant to scare him into submission. And he didn’t lie to himself – he was fucking tempted to surrender. With all of their offensive capabilities combined, they could decimate Nibelheim in two minutes. Hell, they could level the indomitable, seeming unconquerable Mt. Nibel if they wished.

He waved away the messages of alarm from his guards and ordered them to stand down. He could see well enough for himself. He knew there was no threat of imminent attack as long as he remained in the castle. Sephiroth wanted him alive, not dead.

He watched as the airships lowered themselves to the ground, surrounding Nibelheim Castle. They landed, and it looked like thousands of tiny ants scurried out of these airships, and began to set up camp. He saw those grey tents spring up like hundreds of billowy, monotone umbrellas. And even from this distance, he could see the lurid figure of Genesis Rhapsodos, in his red coat and his massive red sword hanging from his belt. His flaming hair swung as he strode across the stone bridge, all on his own and without any escorts at all.

Cloud looked down at the general who stood at the castle gates. It was another few minutes before he received the message that the general was seeking an audience with him. He ordered Genesis to be brought into the throne room.

But he stood there for a little longer, watching the Shinra troops below, working diligently, trespassing all over on Nibelheim land. He couldn’t even summon up enough anger anymore. Fucking Sephiroth and his fucking empire.

Why had he gotten tangled up with the world’s most impossible man? The man who didn’t know the meaning of ‘no’, and had gotten his way on everything, not because he was a superior specimen of a man, but because he had a shitty personality and a cursed talent for wielding that seven-foot stick he called a sword.

He didn’t feel ready, but he pushed away from the stone wall and headed back down into the castle. Genesis was cooling his heels in the throne room, but when he saw Cloud enter, he got to his feet and did a little bow that bordered on respectful and irreverent at the same time. It wasn’t until Cloud dismissed the attendants that Genesis relaxed.

‘Prince Consort,’ he acknowledged.

‘General,’ he said, pointedly reminded by the fact that Genesis did not address him as the King of Nibelheim. But that wasn’t a surprise to him – of course his loyalty was to Sephiroth. What he was baffled by was why it was Genesis here, instead of that silver-haired bastard. ‘What brings you to my kingdom?’

Genesis only sighed, then he walked forward and put a hand on Cloud’s shoulder. It was a little too familiar for someone he wasn’t close to, but yet there was a frankness in his actions that Cloud found hard to reject. ‘I am here on behalf of Sephiroth. He did not tell me to do this, yet I wanted to try. This … trouble between the both of you, it’s got to stop.’

‘Then you should have told Sephiroth to stop,’ Cloud said irritably. ‘None of this would have happened if he was able to let go. Didn’t anyone teach him how to share when he was a child?’ Cloud snapped tersely. ‘He’s like a brat who won’t let go of a toy, and he’s the one who’s trying to make it into a war!’

Genesis watched him calmly. ‘Sephiroth is a one-minded mule, I’ll give you that. But let’s be clear here, Cloud. You were the one who breached the tributary agreement that you both consented to, I would like to remind you. I’m not trying to be a tool, but you have also understand that promises mean a lot to Sephiroth.’

‘He didn’t even want to get married in the first place,’ Cloud said coldly. ‘He wanted no part of this marriage.’

‘I know,’ Genesis answered. ‘I was there. During the wedding. And before the wedding too. He was reluctant, but despite his hesitations he went ahead and made the deal anyway. He honored his promise. You’re the one who’s chosen not to.’

‘For a good reason!’ Cloud said defensively. ‘An exception needs to be made in this case. My brother died, leaving no heir behind. I am his only sibling, and I am the best candidate.’

‘That may be the case,’ Genesis agreed. ‘But when you say an exception should be made … it’s not true. Why should Sephiroth have to suffer for an “exception” through no fault of his own?’

‘It’s not about fault,’ Cloud said. ‘This is life. You win some, you lose some. This is what humans do. And in this case, a small personal sacrifice will enable a kingdom to continue in peace.’

‘A sacrifice?’ Genesis echoed. ‘But why does he have to be the one to sacrifice his happiness?’

‘It’s not just him,’ Cloud yelled. ‘It’s me too!’

‘But you stand to gain a lot more,’ Genesis pointed out. ‘You inherited a kingdom. He stands to gain nothing. Absolutely nothing whatsoever. In fact, he stands to lose many things. His reputation, his companion, his spouse. Think about it this way. The Shinra Empire is vast and enormous. If any one of these protectorates try to follow in your footsteps and think it’s OK to breach a tributary agreement, we’re more than fucked. We could have more than one battle on our hands. You are single-handedly setting a terrible example and creating a precedent when you should be supporting him in his role as the ruler of the empire, which you clearly agreed to do even in your wedding vows. I know this, because I was there at the wedding ceremony.’

His words made sense, and his brain agreed. But his heart did not, and it was reflected through the expression on his face. Genesis only sighed tiredly. ‘I see now why you and Sephiroth get along so well. Birds of a feather,’ he said grimly. ‘Listen, I didn’t come here to lecture you. But we’ve travelled through the night and I’ve been up coordinating logistics. I just need a few hours to crash in my camp and I’m coming right back. Please promise me you won’t bar my entry.’

‘Of course not,’ Cloud said. At Genesis’s mention of sleep, it was like a trigger word that reminded his body of what he was now severely lacking. His lids were heavy, and his body like lead. But that anxiety within him would not quell, and he wondered if he could even sleep. Genesis seemed to understand.

‘As long as you don’t prohibit me from entering the castle, I won’t resort to violence, Cloud. You may rest easy.’

‘You’re not going to attack us?’ Cloud asked. ‘Isn’t that what you’re here to do?’

‘No,’ Genesis said. ‘I promised Sephiroth I would lead his army, but I will not fight this battle for him. I intend to use all my charm and eloquence to convince you to come back to Midgar with me, but failing that, I won’t be party to war and an abduction. If Sephiroth is dead set on doing so, he can do it himself. It’s inelegant and barbaric,’ he sniffed. ‘But make no mistake, Prince Consort. Sephiroth will make good on his promises, no matter what.’ Genesis then turned on his heel, and was led out of the castle.

Cloud felt slightly assured that his castle and its people were safe for the time being. Genesis’s presence outside the castle was intimidating, of course, but it was buying him more time as well.

Although whether or not he could really change Sephiroth’s mind was a whole different dilemma in itself.

He slept surprisingly deeply for a man whose kingdom was on the verge of a war that he himself had brought to its doorstep. But the fact that Genesis was seeking conversation instead of bombing the heck out of the castle or trying to breach his walls with his army of infantry and SOLDIERs gave him some sense of warped comfort.

But even though his sleep was deep and long, his dreams were chaotic, colored by his fears and anxieties.

It was rather pleasant at first, with him settling in front of the fire on a cold winter’s day. And from there the scene took a sinister turn. The vaunted general, the emperor who did not admit to that title, leapt out of the fire in a swift and sudden move. The flames did not singe him at all, and that long, evil blade in his hand gleamed sharp and menacing. He stabbed Cloud in the midriff, and he fell to the ground, gasping and choking on his own blood. The pain was excruciating, robbing him of all breath. He knew then he was about to die.

But Sephiroth wasn’t done. Those slim, graceful fingers got a fistful of his collar at the back of his neck, and lifted him like he weighed nothing. Then he started dragging him backwards. The carpeted ground was no more, in its place was thick, lush grassland. But no matter how thick the cushioning, his ass felt raw, his skin broken. He was naked as the day he was born, and Sephiroth’s hand was on his left arm, wrapped around the crook of his elbow, fingers pressing bruising prints into his flesh. He was the conquest, the spoils of victory in a battlefield, and he was treated accordingly.

It was so painful, so vivid – there was no reason why this wasn’t a dream. He was caught in the feelings, the emotions – the humiliation of being dragged by his arm, naked skin rubbing painfully against bare ground; the degradation of losing to his enemy; the shame that coursed through his entire body at the thought of what was to come.

He was yanked across the fields, and Shinra Tower shone like a beacon in the distance. It was a miracle that his arm wasn’t dislocated. But just as suddenly as Sephiroth had stabbed him, they had arrived at the Tower. The katana in his gut was gone, and there was no wound to speak of.

But even worse was when they got into the Tower. He was jolted up the seemingly endless set of stairs, hauled up step by step like a giant carcass, dead on the outside, hollow and empty in the inside, which explained the lack of any resistance from himself.

He did not know how much time had passed since they had arrived at the doorstep of the Tower. All he knew was that they had finally arrived at their destination.

It was a stone slab, grey and enormous and cold as it looked, and he knew because he had been tossed onto it. With a deep howl of pain, he realized that his arm had indeed been dislocated. His injured arm was wrenched viciously, turned and pinned to his back. His hips were yanked violently upwards, and that sting of pain when he was penetrated was nothing compared to the screaming pain in his arm.

And yet as Sephiroth buried himself deep inside of him, his own cock twitched and throbbed, so needy and desperate it was a shade of angry red, begging for release. But one hand was pinned behind him, and the uninjured one was braced against the cold surface, kept him from being pounded into the stone slab. The pace Sephiroth had set was brutal, and so punishing that Cloud begged for the torment to end. He was being fucked with a barbaric viciousness that was almost cruel, one that he would never even wish on his worst enemy.

But the assault went on and on, and he could only cry for a mercy that would never come.

He awoke with a jolt, blinking sleep out of his eyes. He could feel the wetness on the pillow, his heart racing in fear and anticipation, the stiffness in his back, and most alarmingly, his cock tenting his pants. Despite the vicious humiliation of the dream, his erection was hard and proud, standing at attention and demanding affection.

He groaned. There was no more sleep for him. He gave into his body’s desires, stroking himself to a weak completion. After all, his libido had taken quite a hit. From having intercourse every day to none, then twice in a single day after twenty days. And the possibility was quite high that it would never again have more.

As the last vestiges of that terrible dream faded away, he realized that it was as ludicrous as it was real in his dreams. Sephiroth, despite all his failings and that streak of sadism, was a gentleman. Rape was not in his repertoire of cruelty.

At least, he didn’t think so. But then again, how well did he know Sephiroth, really?

It was already late afternoon, so he extended an invitation to the Red General to join him for a private dinner. Even though his small council waited for an explanation, he wasn’t in the mood for it. He had no answers for them yet.

Genesis represented a haven of sorts to him. He was a representative of Sephiroth, and yet he was not Sephiroth himself. It lessened the threat a little, and while it also reduced that complicated intimacy he had shared with his husband, it also created a safe distance where logic and reason could operate better than the conflicting emotions of a heart.

They shared useless small talk about the weather as dinner was served. It was simple fare, nothing luxurious at all, but the portions were generous and the food delicious. He eyed Genesis across the table. The man looked neat and groomed, well-rested and alert.

‘Genesis,’ he got straight to the point. ‘Please tell me how to put a stop to this madness.’

Genesis’s fork hovered in the air. ‘Cloud,’ he said wearily. Cloud had never seen him so exhausted-looking. He was usually groomed and impeccable, charm held like a weapon in front of him. He looked … so human. ‘It’s not just him. It’s you too.’

‘I know that,’ he said gently. ‘And I apologize for my involvement in this entire fiasco. But while I am willing to make compromises, Sephiroth won’t back off. I need a way to make him stop, consider what it really means to wage war over something so trivial.’

‘It’s not trivial to him,’ Genesis pointed out. ‘He feels done wrong by you, as you know. And here’s what you also know – the only solution to making him stop.’

‘By returning to Midgar, yes. But there’s no guarantee that once I return, he’ll let me go. I stay here not out of defiance, but fear for my own safety. I need to stay here in order to make a stand, Genesis. And you know my request isn’t exactly unreasonable.’

Genesis was unwilling to concede, perhaps out of sheer loyalty to his friend. ‘The only real advice I have to you is for you to return to Midgar. This is not an insurmountable problem. It has a simple solution, my darling. And you two are too fucking boneheaded to see it. Pardon my language.’

Cloud let the insult pass. ‘I hear you, Genesis. But I feel like we’re going round and round in circles.’

‘ _I_ feel like I’ve been chasing my tail,’ Genesis said tiredly. ‘Between you and Sephiroth, I think I’m this close to jumping off the ramparts of your castle just so I can earn myself some peace.’ That prompted Genesis to change tacks. ‘Were you happy in Midgar, Cloud? I know you were only there for couple of months. But were you happy?’

Cloud polished off the rest of his salad. ‘I was,’ he said. ‘I was very happy.’ And he was telling the unvarnished truth. Save for a few rough and rocky moments, the rest of his stay had been him adapting to his new home, and he had only optimism and positivity as he fronted that task.

He had liked the new friends he had made – Aerith, Zack. Genesis and Angeal. Jessie and Cill, Kunsel and Reeve. All his new attendants in Midgar. Everyone had been so kind to him.

He even liked his new spouse, who was as cold and indifferent as they came, curt to the point of rudeness and offensiveness etched into the way he spoke and even the way he looked at Cloud. Even the way he sneered and smirked and said the word ‘prince’.

But he also called Cloud his little cat, and he knew that was when Sephiroth was in a nice mood, the slightest bit of fondness seeping into his tone as he called him by that endearment. And at the end of the day, when all was said and done, he had been happy. Happy enough, but for how long he didn’t know. After all, an unrequited love tended to take its toll.

‘Then why not come back?’ Genesis said, his voice equally gentle. ‘We loved having you there. And we were just getting to know you as well. The spars between you and your husband were getting a reputation of their own. They call you the spiky-headed upstart, because you seem to be giving Sephiroth a run for his money. I haven’t sparred you yet, Cloud. I would like the chance.’

‘I would like that too,’ Cloud said. ‘But Genesis, you are an esteemed general of the Shinra army. You have a duty to your nation. I wish we didn’t have to arrive at this point, either. But I too have a duty I must fulfill.’

‘I am sorry for your loss,’ Genesis said, sympathy in his voice. Cloud refused to feel the pang of pain from that terribly familiar grief. ‘Your brother’s death was a pity, and a loss to all. I do understand the circumstances, Cloud. I’m not denying that. What I am suggesting however, is that perhaps this is not the best time to make such a life-changing decision? Could you consider that you may not be in the right frame of mind as well?’

It was certainly possible. The weight of responsibility had fallen onto his shoulders without a how-do-you-do, and the grief, still in its early stages, hadn’t been given a chance to settle. But there was no time, not when the work had to be done, and with a certain silver-haired bastard practically threatening to drag his ass back to Midgar.

Cloud hardened his expression. ‘I admit my fault, Genesis. But this has to go both ways. Sephiroth won’t come to the table. I don’t feel like I have a choice in the matter when he’s threatening to tear down my kingdom because I won’t go back to him.’

‘He has no other way to get you back,’ Genesis said. ‘And let’s be honest. Our Sephiroth may be clever and cool, but his eloquence needs work. He hardly speaks, and is rather out of practice.’

That little dig surprised a chuckle out of him. He toyed with his next meal, a juicy little steak with fresh vegetables on the side. ‘Tell me, Genesis. How serious is Sephiroth? Will he actually follow through with his threats?’

‘Undoubtedly,’ Genesis answered. ‘If you do not mind, may I tell you a story about him?’

Cloud shrugged. ‘The night’s still young.’

Genesis nodded. ‘Our Sephiroth … well, you know him. He’s strong, really strong. Clever. Focused. Incredible strength of will. Bit of a demon with that sword. There is a singular, simple reason why he rose through the ranks so quickly, and became the strongest SOLDIER. He just has no hesitation whatsoever. We were in Wutai together, all nine miserable years.’

He took a deep breath, as if readying to plunge into icy waters. His gaze had fled to a distant, faraway place.

‘We were sent to the frontlines every single day. Small skirmishes or big clashes, knock down drag-out fights, quick scuffles – it didn’t matter. SOLDIER fronted the war, and even though we were considered the best, it was almost like we were expendable. In a way, I guess we were. As long as the Midgar labs were functioning, they could keep the enhanced SOLDIERs coming. It was a dirty, horrible war. Squatting in the jungles and hunting for the fucking Wutaians was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. A wet, muddy haystack, and a hay-colored needle.

‘But all good things had to eventually come to an end. By the end of the nine years, we were all tired of it. Tired of the long wet nights, the mosquitoes biting at our skins, the wet heat in the air. We just wanted it done. We fought them back for four days straight, no rest, and then Wutai was as good as ours. All that was left was to get Godo Kisaragi to sign the damned treaty of surrender. But he was so stubborn, barricading himself in Wutai Pagoda. He was a canny man, he knew that the narrow passageways and entry points could keep us in a bottleneck. Archers lined the stairwell, and each floor was filled with the last of his warriors. He wanted to send as many of us to hell before surrendering. Shinra had sent in a platoon before we arrived, and they were dead before they even hit the second floor. That was when SOLDIER had been sent in. They should have sent us in first.

‘Sephiroth didn’t even blink. He went up to the big wooden doors, and ripped it off the hinges with his bare hands. Mind you, back then we were still enhanced, still getting our monthly injections of mako. So we were all powered-up, more beasts than men. Sephiroth sliced the door in half, picked up a half and used it as a fucking shield in front of him. They rained down the arrows on us, but the door could block out the first wave long enough for Sephiroth to cut them down.

‘It was tough fighting in such close quarters, as you know Masamune is ridiculously long. But he made it work, and skewered the ones in front of him like they were meat on a stick. He swung the archers over the stairwell, then just kept moving forward. I was literally hot on his heels, but he decimated their numbers. I was just the clean-up guy. But we fought all five floors up to the top, stepping over the bodies of our fellow infantrymen.

‘And when Sephiroth got to Kisaragi, he fucking threw the wooden shield at him, and stabbed him in the shoulder, pinning him to the wall. Then he said only one thing. “Surrender or _die_.” He accepted nothing less than submission. And you know what came after that. Wutai surrendered, and the war was finally over,’ Genesis finished, his gaze honing in onto Cloud. ‘If he does get here, I have no doubt he will do the same to you, Cloud. And I don’t want that to happen. The two of you … have great potential. You may only have known each other for a month, but I believe in the two of you. It’s only a matter of time you fall for each other.’

Cloud’s own response came too late, and Genesis pounced on it with a growing realization. ‘You love him,’ he said, surprised. ‘You love Sephiroth already.’

He could deny it, but what was the point. ‘Yes.’

‘Then … what you’re doing makes even less sense!’ Genesis exclaimed. ‘You’re holding out here when you should be by his side.’

‘My love for him is irrelevant. Just because I fell for him first doesn’t mean I have to do everything he says, and it certainly doesn’t mean I abandon my post.’

Genesis finished his food, put down his fork and knife. ‘You two need to discuss it in person.’

‘We have. He’s refusing to back down.’

‘But so are you,’ Genesis pointed out. ‘Best to give it another chance. Come back to Midgar first, Cloud. And talk to him. I’m sure right now he seems like a monster, but he can be persuaded. He just needs some time to get used to the idea. If you two don’t want to lose each other, you’ll find a way.’

‘We’ve tried,’ Cloud said in despair. ‘We’ve tried. Please, Genesis. Tell me how to appeal to him. Help him change his mind.’

‘I already did. Come back to Midgar. He’ll listen then.’

‘That’s not an option,’ Cloud said. ‘He’ll keep me there, I know it. What if it doesn’t work out? I’m stuck in the Tower, like a real-life Rapunzel? What will happen to my kingdom? And my people?’

Genesis sighed. ‘I understand your concerns, I really do. But neither one of you will back up a step. And it’s going to lead you nowhere but a war on your hands. Do we really have to get to that point? Really, Cloud? People will die because you two can’t resolve your marital spat.’ His tone was withering.

That angered Cloud. ‘Then why are you directing all of this to me? Why don’t you try this with your good friend instead?’

‘Don’t you think I tried?’ Genesis retorted. ‘But between the two of you, I thought you might be the one who’s more inclined to be reasonable.’ He got up, walked around the table and kneeled in front of Cloud, taking both hands in his. ‘Your Highness, I really hope we don’t have to resort to any form of violence or war. It’s not worth it, I’m sure you must agree.’

‘I do,’ Cloud said.

Genesis squeezed his hands. ‘Sephiroth has very powerful feelings for you. And he’s not entirely certain what to do with them. And between the two of you, you are the more eloquent, evolved being. So you may have to show him the way. But you do so by setting an example first.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Cloud said. ‘I promise I will.’

And he did. After dinner, when Genesis had retired to his camp and the table had been cleared, Cloud sat by the roaring hearth and tightened his cloak around himself. Despite being so close to the flames, he still felt cold.

It was an eternity before he could get to his feet again. And he felt like an old man. Everything hurt. Everything ached.

When he finally got back to the silent sanctuary of his bedroom, he let his body sag with relief. He had been so distracted that he didn’t realize that there was someone else in his room until she greeted him. ‘Cloud.’

He lifted his head, met hers in pure misery. And it was a testament how fucked that their lives really were when he realized that her expression mirrored his. Her eyes were red, and her face puffy from crying. Immediately, Cloud kneeled before her, taking her hands in his. ‘Tifa.’

But she cupped his cheek. ‘You’ve been crying.’

He couldn’t deny it, not when his eyelids were tender and puffy and he felt like all the liquid had been drained out of his body. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘This is … this is all my fault,’ Tifa said. ‘If Aldrich and I had a child together … then you wouldn’t have been put in this position.’

Perhaps it was true, perhaps it wasn’t. Even if there had been a legitimate heir, there was a chance Cloud would have been asked to be regent until the child had become of age. Or the role might have gone to Tifa. Or his mother. Yes, if there had been a child, things might have been simpler for him. But there was no point dwelling on it. The child was lost.

‘Tifa, none of this is your fault. It’s just how it is. You can’t be thinking like that. We all need to be strong for each other, especially now. We will get through this.’

She looked up at him, her lashes wet with tears. He could barely look at the agony on her face. She was living in some kind of hell, one that he could not rescue her from. Aldrich and Tifa had loved each other deeply, their love as certain as day and night. All Cloud could really remember what the bubble of absolute, pure joy that the two of them lived in. And he had been so glad, that despite everything, they had each other.

But it was no longer true.

Tifa lifted her head from the position on Cloud’s shoulder, and she reached for him. And even before his brain had a chance to process what he was doing, he had reciprocated. He was hurting too, in his own way. The hell that he was in was different from Tifa’s, but no less painful. And no one could extricate him from it.

He didn’t know who kissed whom first, but all he could feel was those soft lips and warm heat and the taste of her salty tears. He was torn; he was lost. And he fought his way to the surface, holding onto Tifa like she was his only lifeline.

He didn’t mind living out the rest of his days as the king of Nibelheim, with Tifa by his side. A couple of children running underfoot while they loved and they lived.

For the first time ever, he fervently wished that he did not love Sephiroth. He wished that it didn’t hurt when he thought about the man, and as his body responded to the heat generated by their bodies, he wished that he did not feel like it was a betrayal of his feelings.

His arm snaked around her waist, bringing her closer to him, and she gripped his hair. He lifted her out of the chair and tumbled her down onto his bed. His hands trembled as he removed his cloak, then his jacket. He watched her do the same.

But their gazes met even though their fingers kept moving – and all Cloud saw was a haze of despair, and a desperate need to get rid of the thoughts in her head. His fingers stilled. This would not solve any problems, not when they were practically inebriated with pain and grief. They were not thinking clearly; and this would create additional complications to an already complex problem.

This was not the solution.

Cloud wept standing, face in his hands, even as Tifa sobbed on his bed, sprawled, her body bowed in pain. They didn’t touch this time, as if afraid of the possible transference from each other’s emotions. So close to each other, yet their own bubble of pain separated them so much they might as well be on different planets. It was all too much, too big. Aldrich’s death had left too many unanswered questions, and they had to accept that perhaps they would never have the answers.

He missed Aldrich.

He could not believe his beloved brother was gone. And had left his destiny unfulfilled in such a way Cloud now felt compelled to finish it for him.

He could not betray his own feelings even though they were a moot point to begin with. If he and Tifa could not make a child out of their loyalty for the men that they loved, then they were left with no option. He must be a king, and as king, he must make the right decision for his kingdom.

He must protect what is left of Aldrich’s legacy. No matter the price. No matter the pain.

A few days ago, his council had assembled to discuss the matter at hand. Cid, of course, was raring to pick a fight with the mighty Shinra. He didn’t care what the consequences were, but he cared that their pride had been trampled upon. ‘Sephiroth doesn’t own you,’ Cid had said. ‘He can’t just demand for you to go back when you don’t want to.’

‘We’ve been going around this topic a million times,’ Vincent said. ‘And it’s going nowhere.’

Cloud privately agreed. He was sick to death thinking about it. In a burst of frustration and calm, he said, ‘We can’t keep doing this. I want my mother to take over the regency.’

Cid slapped his hands on the table. ‘Are you fucking going back to Midgar?’

‘Yes,’ Cloud said. ‘We don’t have a choice.’

‘Yes, we do,’ Vincent said. ‘It will take them years to siege this castle, and you know it. This is a fortified citadel. Our supplies are plentiful and fully-stocked, and they don’t know about our supply lines underground and in the back. I highly doubt they’ll stay past a few months in order to retrieve a consort. Sephiroth may be powerful, but his own council will likely force him to back down. This is a risk I don’t mind us taking, Cloud. We’re safe inside the castle, and this can buy us time for us to keep negotiating. But if you go back to Midgar now, you’re as good as admitting defeat. And once you leave, who’s going to lead us?’

Cid slapped Vincent on the back, approval in his voice. ‘Knew you were good for something, ya stuffy bastard.’

Vincent ignored it. ‘We’ve been put in an untenable position, Cloud. Perhaps it’s time for us to push back. He can’t hurt us if we’re walled-up in here. And most importantly, we can keep the negotiations going.’

Terrius looked to Cloud. ‘I agree with Vincent. The general can’t always get his own way. He’s not even considering any of the negotiations. Someone has to take a stand. And if that’s us, then …’ He shrugged.

Cloud looked at the woman who sat on his right, who was quiet throughout the entire proceedings. ‘Mother?’

His mother sighed. ‘I don’t mind being regent, Cloud. But for how long? As long as you’re his prince consort, you can’t produce an heir of your own. And now that Aldrich is gone, he can’t either. This bloodline will die with you if you return, my son. If we have to fight, then we have to. We can only hope that he comes to his senses at some point.’

He had the small council’s agreement to go to war. So they sped down the rest of the thirty days, and he had hand-written his speech to his people, warning them about what was to come. And in the remaining days, the whole of Nibelheim was evacuated into the castle, or the mountain settlements at higher elevations. Within a few days the castle was resupplied, restocked, and then sealed off except for a single entrance. His people took up arms willingly, and garrisoned the castle. Nibelheim might be a tiny nation, but they were a proud people.

And yet, there was a sadness to the proceedings. His first act as king was to declare a war, and the cause of this war was himself. He was simultaneously ashamed and heartened at the same time. He was a son of Nibelheim, and always would be. That was what Sephiroth did not understand.

All the pain and grief solidified into a hard little kernel of anger, burning furiously inside. He couldn’t go back to Sephiroth. Not when he still had a kingdom to defend. If Sephiroth wanted him back, he would have to come to the table. To talk. To compromise.

Cloud raised his head, and gave the order for Genesis to be summoned back into Nibelheim Castle. It was already past midnight. But time ceased to have meaning the moment Sephiroth had threatened him with an ultimatum. Every hour passed into the next, and each was infused with anxiety and torment.

Even if he wanted to return to Midgar now, willingly, his brethren would not let him. They needed him. He fervently wished he could have split himself in half – one, to lead his people, and the other, to follow his heart.

But it wasn’t meant to be.

He left his bedroom after he had tucked the covers over Tifa, who was curled up in his bed, streaks of tears drying on her cheeks.

When Genesis entered the room and took the empty seat in front of him, Cloud looked up. ‘I can’t,’ he said. And that was the only thing he said.

Genesis’s face only reflected dismay and alarm. ‘Certainly you don’t mean to-’

‘If he wants me back, it will be of my own volition, or he can have my dead body. My place is with my people. I have made my decision, and it’s up to him to make his. If he wants to make an alternative deal, he knows where to find me.’ Cloud lifted his chin. ‘Thank you for trying, Genesis. Your concern and kindness will always be in my heart. I was very fortunate to have met your acquaintance. But for now, I believe this is goodbye.’

Genesis stood. ‘So this is your decision.’ He seared Cloud with a gaze pregnant with deep disappointment as he bowed perfunctorily and left the room. ‘Very well. I shall convey your message to the General. I cannot promise anything, but I will urge him to … talk. To you.’

Cloud waited until Genesis left the room to drop his face into his hands. And he knew then and there, there this was it. He had started an unstoppable, horrific chain of events that would not end until something gave in.

Or in this case, someone.

And he hoped that it would not be him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In dedication to all you faithful readers, I present to you - YOU. In form of Genesis, who will slap the boys in the face with the truth on your behalf because he is sick and tired of their bullshit. 
> 
> Genesis: TRUTH  
> Sephiroth: No  
> Cloud: No  
> Genesis: TAKE THIS TRUTH DUMB HOS  
> Also Genesis: *cries in frustrated pain*
> 
> Give the poor man an imaginary thumbs-up, kids. Because he's pretty much you at this point. 
> 
> As always, your comments and support mean the world to me. I love writing this fic, but most importantly, it's only coming to life because you're reading it.


	17. Chapter 17

It was cold and rainy and sleeting. Miserable weather swirled all around him, inescapable and untamable elements that snuck into his bones in a rather insidious fashion. The light drizzle rolled off the leather of his military jacket, and overhead, lightning flashed in the grey sky. The rain dampened his hair, and he felt the strands plastered to his scalp, to his back, where it became an irritating weight. He shook it all off, and mentally focused in on this moment.

He stood at the entrance of Nibelheim Castle, at the end of the stone bridge. The castle was now sealed off completely. No one could get in or out without exerting some effort, and would most likely lose their life in the process by forcing their entry. Up on the ramparts, archers stood at the ready, their arrows pointed right at his head and his chest. All it would take was one fatal strike, and he was done with this world.

He breathed slowly, gripping Masamune in his left hand. He felt the dormant materia sitting in his bracer, a comforting weight and a solid presence. He looked up the ramparts, then spied that blond head looking at him from one of the central towers. His gaze was unblinking and unerring, and Sephiroth could only meet it.

Even though he stood at the end of the stone bridge, and they weren’t exactly within hearing distance, Sephiroth raised his head, and in a voice barely louder than a shout, he said only one word. ‘Come.’

Then he turned his back on the castle, and headed back to his own camp, where it was dry and warm.

Inside, Genesis was stretched out in his chair, his booted feet propped on Sephiroth’s table, crushing a stack of papers under his heel. He was humming quietly, his body language relaxed and languid, but his gaze followed Sephiroth’s entry. With no small amount of irritation, Sephiroth went up to him and shoved his feet off, careful to keep the papers on the table.

‘Why are you in my seat?’ Sephiroth snapped.

Genesis lifted his head from the headrest. ‘Sweet lords of Gaia, you’re in a great mood,’ Genesis sniped. ‘I’m in your seat because your chair is a lot more comfortable than that piece of flint over there. Obviously,’ he said, pointing to the visitor’s chair.

Not for the first time since this war began, Sephiroth wondered to himself why he had chosen to bring along Genesis, instead of someone less dramatic. Or difficult. Someone more level-headed, like Angeal. Or lacking in sass, like Zack. Instead, he was stuck with this red-head who couldn’t stop giving him attitude.

Fifteen days ago, Genesis had taken his favorite airship _Ifrit_ and had led the fleet towards Nibelheim. He had asked for at least three days to speak to Cloud on his own, to try to convince him to make an about-face. But within two days, Genesis had returned to Midgar, and the defeated expression on his face said it all. It had been a fool’s hope after all.

Sephiroth had then taken the time to set aside his affairs. When he was ready, he took _Meteorfall_ and pointed it towards the direction of Nibelheim. When he had arrived, he was reluctantly impressed. Cloud had ordered all the towns and villages to be evacuated into the castle or the mountain settlements, and the castle had been sealed up. There was no way into the castle unless he was prepared to sacrifice thousands of soldiers to try to breach the sturdy stone walls, and that he was not keen on. No matter what names they called him, he did not believe in a wasting lives unnecessarily, especially not his SOLDIERS, as it took time, money and a great deal effort to train them to the elite forces they were now. He had seen so many pointless deaths in Wutai that he would not squander them now. Not to breach a well-defended fortified citadel.

Besides, he had other ideas.

He had sent scouts into the towering, intimidating line of jagged rock they called Mt. Nibel. It wasn’t quite accurate though – Mt. Nibel was merely the tallest. It wasn’t just one mountain, but a series of them that stretched out to block out the sky. They were not mountains of beauty, but vicious and forces of nature, twisted and gnarled rocks with jagged edges and unforgiving angles. The castle was built at its base, the foot of the mountains, and it looked like it was being flanked, protected from the worst of the winter winds and storms.

His scouts were well-chosen, many of them were seasoned SOLDIERS who hailed from towns with challenging landscapes. A few, in particular, were from the Northern Continent, which was pretty much as harsh as it got. It was almost laughably easy to find the ten or so settlements that gathered at higher elevations of the mountains, thriving communities that were well-hidden and protected from sight by the uneven rocky landscape. He had no doubt there were more, but knowing where some of them were was enough for now.

Cloud wanted to enter a war of attrition with him, Sephiroth knew. But what Cloud conveniently forgot was that Sephiroth lived through one already. Wutai had proved to be stubborn, and for nearly ten years they had held out. Nibelheim might be able to see out a year inside, Sephiroth calculated, considerably less so if they cut off their supply routes in the mountains.

That night, he sent out a missive to the castle, insisting on a round of private negotiations. And since they were unlikely to grant him entry, he proposed for the meeting to take place in his own tent.

He knew the word was like an irresistible bait to Cloud. After all, he didn’t want a fight that he knew he would end up losing in the end. He was just standing his ground, refusing to give in to what Sephiroth wanted.

After nearly twenty-four hours of consideration, Cloud had been sent out with a veritable group of guards and advisors. He had Genesis separate Cloud from his retinue, and he walked into the tent alone. He was confident, knowing that his life was not in danger. But baffled, considering at their last meeting Sephiroth had already vehemently denied him of any effective negotiations. Hopeful, because he wanted something to go his way, and quite desperately too.

They did not touch one another. In fact, Cloud barely made eye contact, which was a feat unto its own, simply because it was only the two of them inside of the tent. The military tent itself was simple, but large. After all, as the command post, it had to house a work desk, a conference table, a private toilet and shower, as well as heating equipment. Sephiroth had also ordered his bed to be set up in there, sparing the need for him to have two tents, which would be a waste of resources. There were rugs on the floor, and bed linens with high thread-count, presumably an effort to make tent living a little more palatable.

‘What do you want?’ Cloud finally said.

Sephiroth motioned him over to the conference table with the crook of a finger, where a large map of Nibelheim and the mountains had been drawn up. He stood in front of the map, and waited for Cloud to join him. He did not need to say a thing, instead waiting until the jolt of realization hit Cloud that most of the mountain settlements had been accurately marked on the map.

Dismay crossed his face briefly before he schooled it into stoicism again. ‘What is this?’ he demanded.

Sephiroth shrugged. ‘You know what they are. My scouts found ten of them before I ordered them to stop. I have no doubt there’s more. See the black lines? Your supply routes.’

‘You summoned me to show me only this?’ Cloud said, a hint of anger escaping him. ‘If you’re done, I’m leaving.’

‘I could order each of these ten settlements sacked and burned until there is nothing left, and any and all citizens found will be executed on the spot,’ Sephiroth said. ‘But I’m going to give you a chance. For every day that you come into my tent, I will spare one settlement. You alone may choose how often you do this, what time you wish to visit, and how long you will stay for.’

Cloud flushed with fury. ‘You want me to let you fuck my body in exchange for my people’s lives?’

Only his little cat would jump to such a needlessly vulgar assumption. ‘On the contrary. That is not what I’m asking for. I am asking for a visit from you, and you only. What happens during the visits is completely up to you. If you want to join me in negotiations, then we shall proceed. If you want to sit and stare at my face, then so be it. If you wish for me to fuck you, then I will gladly do so.’

‘What is there to negotiate when you’ve already found the settlements? And that you have the castle surrounded?’ Cloud said, and Sephiroth hated to hear that touch of helplessness in his voice. But he reminded himself that Cloud was unschooled in war. He had been a sheltered prince, and Nibelheim had not seen any conflict since they signed the tributary agreement with Shinra. And not only had he not been raised to be a king, he had been trained to be a consort.

‘Plenty,’ Sephiroth said, and left it at that.

‘Have you changed your mind?’ Cloud said.

Sephiroth sidestepped the question. ‘Somewhat,’ he said evasively. ‘Are you in agreement with my proposal?’

He could see Cloud’s brain ticking and whirling away, trying to find a loophole but arriving at none. And it was because there was none for him. He was on the back foot, with too much to lose. Even if there was a loophole, by virtue of his position, he was forced to take whatever concessions Sephiroth was willing to dish out.

So Cloud nodded reluctantly.

Sephiroth continued pushing him out of his comfort zone. He wanted Cloud a little confused, a little off-balanced. ‘That’s all for today, then.’

Cloud blinked.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, my cat.’

Cloud blinked again, his magnificent blue gaze now clouded with some wariness. ‘I’m warning you, Sephiroth, if you think this is a game-’

‘I don’t,’ Sephiroth said simply.

With one last heated gaze, Cloud turned and stomped out of his tent.

That had been the first day of their reunion in Nibelheim.

The second day was much like the first, except with a lot less words and a lot more wary silence from Cloud. He had stalked in in his thick black cloak, settled down at the conference table. He had stripped his gloves off and tossed them onto the table, then crossed his arms. And waited.

But nobody beat Sephiroth at his own game. He could sit still in silence for a very, very long time. He had sat through too many council meetings with the previous emperor and his cabinet of slobbering, incompetent ministers where they scrambled over each other to fawn over the emperor and gain his attention. That was part of the reason why, since the coup, he had banned council meetings. They were useless and a waste of time.

‘So what now?’ Cloud snapped. ‘Are you willing to divorce me and let me go my own way?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth answered.

The strangled sound that Cloud made in his throat, and that utterly murderous expression on his face was strangely endearing. Sephiroth had expected no less.

‘Then why am I here?’

‘To negotiate,’ Sephiroth said.

‘What the hell am I supposed to discuss when you won’t even back up a single step?’

That wasn’t true. As if to show his sincerity, Sephiroth nodded in agreement. ‘Yesterday I spared one settlement. Today I will spare another.’

Cloud snorted inelegantly. ‘How about my kingship?’

Sephiroth nodded. ‘I have seen how much it means to you. You may keep it.’

The suspicious expression on his face was palpable. ‘What?’

‘You may remain king of Nibelheim,’ Sephiroth explained.

‘But you want me to rule from Midgar?’ Cloud asked.

‘Yes.’

Cloud huffed out an indignant breath. ‘What a turd of a deal, and the same thing we’ve been over a million times. Give me something else, Sephiroth, or I’m walking.’

‘You may visit Nibelheim twice a year, with no visit lasting more than two weeks.’

Cloud stilled. Sephiroth looked at him. His hackles were rising, and those eyes took on a deadly calm. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yes. You may bring your entire small council to Midgar, or keep them in Nibelheim if you wish. Or split them, I don’t care. You shall have whatever resources you need in Midgar in order to make this work. And since you are fairly inexperienced, you shall have my assistance in whatever matters that you care to discuss with me.’

He was fairly sure that little smile that Cloud wore was mocking. ‘How generous of you.’

‘In fact, I think I am being generous,’ Sephiroth said mildly. ‘Might I remind you that you have offered nothing in return. And I am in fact, the aggrieved party in this situation.’

‘Yeah, you and the ten airships and your thousands of troops that have surrounded my castle,’ Cloud said, doing nothing to hide the bitterness in his tone.

Sephiroth shrugged. ‘I’m not going to let you get away with what’s mine, Cloud. Just because I am fond of you does not mean I will let myself be taken advantage of.’

‘What prompted the change of mind? The last time we spoke, you weren’t willing to make any concessions. And now you have the upper hand, and you’re suddenly offering me better terms?’

Sephiroth thought about his friends coming to Cloud’s defense. As much as he was revered as a general or a ruler, it didn’t matter. He was still human. And he was capable to making mistakes just like any other. And he had considered that maybe he could afford to be kind. After all, he did want Cloud to return to him – whole, alive and happy. If he had burned down Nibelheim like he had threatened to, Cloud had already made it clear that it would be over his dead body.

‘I’ve simply given a little more thought to it,’ he explained. And that was really it.

But Cloud looked like he was waiting for more.

There was no more.

Cloud stood, swiping his gloves off the table in a bad-tempered move. He stalked past Sephiroth, whose hand shot out to grab his wrist and stop his movement instantly.

Cloud looked like he was going to punch Sephiroth in the face. He looked down at where Sephiroth’s gloved hand held his wrist. And looked up again. ‘What else do you want?’ he hissed like an angry cat.

‘I just wanted to thank you for coming today,’ Sephiroth said, then gently unclasped his fingers even as Cloud shook him off and stomped out the tent.

On the third day, Cloud waited until evening to come to him. And when he did, he sat down at his customary seat opposite Sephiroth, and waited in silence.

Again, no one could beat Sephiroth at this game. He sat comfortably, waiting for words that did not come. Cloud’s impatience got the better of him, and he got up after twenty minutes of them staring silently at each other over the conference table, and he exited the tent.

And still Sephiroth kept his promise. He pulled his men off the third mountain settlement.

On the fourth day, Cloud came a little before lunch time, while Sephiroth was poring over his paperwork that had been delivered fresh from Midgar. There had been no warning whatsoever, and Sephiroth looked up to see Cloud stomping into his tent, his black cloak whirling furiously behind him. He wasn’t necessarily taken aback, but there had been an element of surprise even as Cloud put both hands on the front of Sephiroth’s jacket, violently yanking upwards until Sephiroth was standing, towering over Cloud even with a desk between them. ‘You fucking impossible bastard,’ Cloud said.

His hands relaxed, because he had seen the flicker in Cloud’s eyes – instead of rage, it had been lust. And Sephiroth’s gaze dropped to those lips, curled in an angry sneer, as if daring him.

Of course he dared. There were not many things that Sephiroth feared. His lips crushed down on Cloud’s soft ones, his tongue licking tentatively at the stubborn opening until it opened for him. Those hands still fisted in his lapels were still stiff and angry. Sephiroth clamped his arms around Cloud’s shoulders and back, yanking him up to clear the table and slide over to himself.

Cloud broke the kiss to swear. ‘You sick fuck! This is not a goddamned game! This is my life and my kingdom we’re talking about!’ And yet his mouth sought the heat from Sephiroth’s, his tongue an invasive force, their teeth clashing. Sephiroth mouthed at the tender skin of his throat, his nose picking up the scents that he had missed so dearly. That sweet magnolia was now tempered with something quite different – it was crisp, almost smoky. Instantly he realized that Cloud now smelled like the wood fires that they burned inside the castle to keep warm. He rather liked it. It was slightly sweet, from the magnolia, and earthy, from the wood.

His arm snaked around Cloud’s waist, and he realized with a start that Cloud had lost weight. The muscle that he had built up had withered away, and he could feel his ribs jutting more keenly than before. Before then, Cloud had always been slender and fit, but now he verged on being thin.

Cloud’s moods were mercurial, and in an instant his burning irritation had transformed into a raging lust that needed to be satiated. Sephiroth even had trouble keeping up with him, and he felt like Cloud was setting a punishing pace when he launched himself bodily at Sephiroth.

All he could do was brace as their combined weight and the forceful momentum crashed them into the ground, where they only just managed to fall short of the tent wall. ‘We can move to the bed,’ Sephiroth said, biting down on a spot on Cloud’s shoulder that had his spouse trembling and shouting at the same time.

‘No,’ Cloud said, almost petulantly. ‘You can fuck me right here. Why does it matter where we are? You’ve been fucking me over for just a little over a month now.’

How petty, Sephiroth thought. But the only response from him was to hurl Cloud onto the floor. He winced as his back hit the ground, which was only a thin layer of canvas material with a rug on it between the cold, hard ground.

Sephiroth slid his hands down that thin insulated down jacket that Cloud wore, took a firm grip with his hands and ripped in cleanly down the middle in two. Cloud’s shocked expression was absolutely worth it, because he had looked down then up in utter disbelief, then: ‘You fucking asshole barbarian! You don’t have to rip my clothes off me! How am I supposed to walk out of here with torn clothes without alerting to your whole goddamned army that we’ve been fucking?’

He just wanted to teach his terribly potty-mouthed spouse a lesson, so his hands reached down, ripped the pants off him as well. Supreme irritation on his face, Cloud kicked a booted foot right into Sephiroth’s gut. He grunted in pain, but he supposed he deserved that.

Just for good measure, Sephiroth reached down to that flimsy little brief that Cloud had on, and tore it away too. He gripped those thighs, stilled them before they could kick him again. Then he bent down, took Cloud’s half erection into his mouth, and that tempest in his arms finally, finally calmed down.

Sephiroth began slowly at first, using his tongue to lick gently around the shaft, his gloved hand massaging Cloud’s balls before squeezing them gently. Then he sucked on the head, and was rewarded when Cloud went stiff under his touch, his cock now hard and ready. Pre-come leaked from the slit that he licked off, prompting Cloud to thrust deeper into the heat of his mouth, his hands digging into Sephiroth’s shoulders and gripping his pauldrons.

With his mouth still clamped over Cloud’s erection, he removed his gloves from his hands and tossed them aside. He wanted to feel that warm flesh under his fingers, to feel that slickness leaking unrestrainedly. He liked the fact that no matter how angry Cloud was, he was always prepared for a good ass pounding – and that was undoubtedly what Sephiroth would give him today. It had been too long since the last time they had sex, and Sephiroth was more than eager to make up for it. He felt like a parched man, a junkie who couldn’t quit this addiction to the compact, hot body under him. He had never, ever met anyone who was quite so open and honest about what he wanted.

Cloud spread his thighs open, and Sephiroth slid two fingers into his moist little pucker, and immediately felt his own cock twitch as his fingers were sucked in, past the tight ring of muscle. Above him, Cloud gasped almost breathlessly as his ass doubled down on those digits out of habit and muscle memory. He felt warm and tight.

Sephiroth pulled away from Cloud’s dick, and looked down at his handiwork. Cloud’s erection was now bobbing desperately, pink and ready, slick with spit and bereft at the loss of pressure. When Cloud’s hand drifted downward to replace Sephiroth’s mouth, Sephiroth grabbed his wrists and forced them back up, pinned them around his head.

Cloud looked confused for a second, then understood immediately. Annoyance flashing in his eyes, he bucked wildly, managing to land another kick against Sephiroth’s thighs. ‘Let go,’ he hissed. ‘I don’t care what the fuck you do, but I want to come! Right now!’

‘You’re a selfish little prince, aren’t you? Well, here’s a deal for you. If you can hold your orgasm until I’m done, I’ll spare two settlements today.’

Sephiroth listened as Cloud spewed more vitriol in form of a few well-chosen cuss words that would make even the roughest sailor blush. But even then, he looked up with defiance, accepting the challenge implicitly in the way he stopped fighting Sephiroth’s hold on his hands.

He let go, then stripped down to his skin. To make sure his little cat wouldn’t cheat, as he knew from experience it wasn’t beneath him, he used his sash belt to loop around those wrists, yanked them up above his head, tightening until he wasn’t able to use his arms freely.

‘What?’ Cloud said sarcastically. ‘You’re trying to make sure you tie me up so well that your airship could drag me all the way back to Midgar?’

Oh, he wanted to make his prince shut the fuck up. So Sephiroth lifted those thighs, spread them wide open, and fucked into that hole without any mercy.

Cloud’s shout was a balm to his senses. He watched Cloud huff and pant, his muscles clamping down instinctively on that violent invasion, and knew he was adjusting to Sephiroth’s girth and length. But Sephiroth didn’t want to give him that time. He knew from experience that it drove Cloud mad and sent shockwaves of bliss that made his eyes roll into the back of his head, and that was what Sephiroth liked to do. Cloud always called him a sadist, but the fact was that Cloud himself enjoyed the roughness, and being pushed past his perceived limits.

He rolled his hips and stretched those legs open until his groin was flush against Cloud’s ass, eliciting a long, agonized moan from the blond, which sounded like a like a melodious chime on his ears. Then he pulled out halfway before slamming back in, and Cloud’s body arched in pleasure even as he screamed.

Sephiroth snapped his hips and thrusted in and out, ignoring the burn and sting on his knees and he fucked into that tight heat. Cloud curled forward as much as his bound hands would allow, and his muscles were quivering, his voice hoarse with incoherent grunts, his eyes dilated, blind and unseeing as his body was wracked with pleasure.

‘Slow … down!’ Cloud gritted out. ‘It’s too much. I can’t! I can’t!’ he yelled.

‘No,’ Sephiroth said, then punished him by increasing his pace. He loved the way that Cloud’s body surrendered itself to its desires, despite what his mouth was actually saying. He rode Sephiroth’s cock as much as Sephiroth was fucking him, and no matter what happened between them, it was like a little miracle itself that their bodies fit together like pieces of a jigsaw – exact, and perfect. And they might have problems, but their sexual chemistry was off the charts. What they had between them – Sephiroth never had before in his past, not even once. When they fucked, it felt right. It felt complete. And it was one of the reasons why he would never give Cloud up. He couldn’t. The addiction was full-blown, and he could no longer quit without severe damage to his mind.

Or his heart.

Was this love? He had wondered so many times. He still didn’t know, not exactly anyway. He knew that he cared greatly for Cloud, and was using utterly ridiculous methods to try to woo him back to his side. But Sephiroth didn’t know what was love. He had been an orphan growing up, and then a test subject in the Midgar labs. No one had ever told him that he was loved, and he had certainly no love for anyone.

When he had found out that Hojo, the man that was responsible for overseeing his experiments was his father, a part of him inside simply died. If his own father couldn’t love him and instead used him like a goddamned animal, perhaps there was nothing to love, and genetically speaking, he could also be incapable of loving another individual.

So he didn’t know what love was. And accepted that he might never find out. All he wanted to do was keep Cloud by his side. That, and fuck into that willing body every day, for the rest of his life.

Under him, Cloud writhed, his panting coming in shorter and shorter, his gaze almost taking on a panicked look as he realized how close he really was to orgasming and Sephiroth seemed to be nowhere near done. But his body was always honest, and Cloud could only moan helplessly as Sephiroth’s frenzied thrusts stroked him into an orgasm, his cock spurting ropes of whitish fluid all over his own trembling belly.

Sephiroth suppressed the smile of amusement that threatened to show on his face. Underneath him, Cloud’s blissed-out expression was replaced with the beginnings of irritation, and what looked like frustration with himself.

But at least he had to manners to wait until Sephiroth was done, before he shoved him off his body with his knees and rolled over onto his side, wrists still tied above his head. He folded his face into his arms, and Sephiroth used a finger to draw invisible lines down the bare canvas of his back.

When Cloud finally got his breath back, he said in a muffled voice, ‘You’re an asshole, Sephiroth.’

Sephiroth couldn’t agree more. ‘You could say that.’

‘You’re so pleased with yourself, aren’t you?’ Cloud scoffed.

‘Yes. The only thing that would make me happier is if you took up the Fusion Sword and sparred with me.’

He snorted. ‘That’s not going to happen. Now if you could spare some time away from gloating, would you please untie my hands so I could get dressed in my torn clothes and try to walk out of here with some dignity?’

Sephiroth’s fingers undid the firm knot, and pulled away the belt. Those wrists were marked, and while he knew it was temporary, it didn’t stop him from feeling the strange mix of guilt and satisfaction. He ran his fingers over those red marks, then bent his head to press a kiss against them.

Cloud watched him, wariness etched on his face.

The silence that followed could only best be described as tense. But neither of them could bring himself to say anything, so Sephiroth let go and Cloud left to clean up and did his best to pull his torn clothes over himself. Sephiroth wordlessly handed him a spare pair of his own pants, and even though Cloud scowled, he took it anyway. It was a dead giveaway that it wasn’t his, because he had to fold the ankles up and roll the waist down in order for it to sit somewhat loosely on his waist. The jacket he simply pulled together with this hand, and wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself.

And without even a final look back, he was gone.

And that had been the fourth day.

The fifth, sixth and seventh day that followed was similar, in that Cloud would enter Sephiroth’s tent, at random times of the day, and they would proceed to fuck quite wordlessly most of the time. As always, they let their bodies do the talking, and their sex-starved bodies were too hungry for each other to say anything else of import.

In the meantime, his men canvassed the mountain range for more settlements, and they found another seven more. He issued orders and continued to work with his endless repertoire of tasks from Midgar, and his negotiations with Cloud continued not to bear fruit.

And then on the eighth day, shortly before breakfast, Genesis sauntered into his tent, without an invitation, and planted his ass into the single visitor’s chair on the opposite side of his desk. Sephiroth lifted an eyebrow.

‘They attacked us a couple hours ago, Sephiroth,’ Genesis said. ‘Left flank, on the eastern side of the mountains, near the narrow pass off the western face. We left a small force of infantry there, with a single SOLDIER Second Class in charge. They’ve been routed, and managed to radio in to alert us. I’ve put the troops on standby, but it looks like this was an isolated incident. I believe the Nibelheimians are trying to test us,’ Genesis said, rather amused.

‘Casualties?’

‘Sixteen men, one SOLDIER,’ Genesis reported. ‘They were picked off by archers, I believe.’

‘Why aren’t you more bothered by this?’ Sephiroth demanded. ‘Did you forget whose side you’re on?’

Genesis’s amusement melted away. ‘Listen to me, Sephiroth. I never forget. The fact was this platoon was led by an incompetent who sadly paid for it with his life and the life of fifteen men under him. They should have been guarding better. They were found inside their tents, playing cards, for fuck’s sake. The archers probably weren’t even aiming properly. If they didn’t do their jobs properly, then they deserved what they got. It was a surprise, sneak attack of the tiniest proportions, Sephiroth.’

He supposed Genesis was right. But that didn’t stop him from feeling protective of his people. He was the one who had sent them in. And unnecessary deaths … reminded him way too much of Wutai, and he hated that.

But perhaps what angered his more was his consort’s deception. It may have been small, but it was deceitful nonetheless when they were still proceeding with negotiations. Although, whether they were negotiations or more like opportunities for sex was debatable, but he had upheld his end of the deal.

And it was just like Cloud not to uphold his.

Once again.

Sephiroth got up, tossed down his pen and grabbed Masamune. As he stood outside the tent, he realized that it was sleeting and raining, perfectly foul conditions. He barely tamped down on his anger as he strode toward the stone bridge that led to the castle, with his soldiers jumping out of the way after they took one look at his face.

And that was where he had found himself, standing there in front of the castle. He looked up, and that blond head was there, peeking out among the ramparts, looking at him, defiance etched into every inch of his body.

And he said only one word, then turned on his heel and stalked back into his tent. Genesis still hadn’t left, he noted. He kicked Genesis’s feet off his table and said, ‘Get out. Cloud’s coming, and we need to have a talk.’

Genesis’s eyes narrowed. ‘Maybe I should be here for that conversation,’ Genesis said. ‘After all, it doesn’t seem like you two have been very productive the last week or so since you began your … _negotiations_.’

Sephiroth seared him with a glare. ‘We’re fine.’

Genesis stood, shook his head. ‘Geez, you two dumb as shit block heads. If you two have kissed and made up already, we can just take this party back to Midgar, where it’s warm and nice and comfortable! My hair follicles are fucked from this rain, and I’m always cold. And I don’t get why you’re the only one who gets to have sex. I just want to be home and with my boyfriend!’ He griped, and Sephiroth tuned him out until he said that last bit.

It was like a bomb dropped on him. ‘Your boyfriend?’

‘Yes, I have one,’ Genesis snapped. ‘And thanks to you, I’m out here in the snowy town west of bumfuck, instead of in my warm bed with my sexy lover, which by the way, I’ll have you know, is hung like a fucking horse and has the stamina of one. We can go for hours, but sadly, I’m getting none of that action because you and your husband can’t get your shit together,’ he bitched.

Sephiroth didn’t want to ask, he really didn’t. Could it be …? Was it …? But his curiosity overrode his common sense for a few seconds long enough for him to say, ‘Your boyfriend? Anyone I know?’

Genesis glared at him. ‘I’m not telling you. You don’t deserve to know.’

‘Genesis,’ Sephiroth called as he reached the entrance of the tent. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that you’re here and not home.’

‘If you’re truly sorry, then work on your deal with your husband so we can all go home!’ Genesis then flipped his hair impatiently, and flounced out of the tent.

It was another hour before Cloud finally made his way into the tent. Sephiroth did not even move from his seat, instead letting his gaze track Cloud as he moved gracefully inside the tent and made his way to the seat opposite him. ‘You summoned me, emperor?’ Cloud said, a hint of mockery in his tone.

‘A platoon of sixteen was killed by the eastern mountain pass,’ Sephiroth said curtly. ‘Why?’

‘Why?’ Cloud’s gaze actually widened. ‘Are you really asking me why when you’ve been the one surrounding all the settlements and pretty much colonizing them? You said you would leave them alone!’

‘No,’ Sephiroth corrected. ‘I did not say that. I said that I would not raze and burn the settlements to the ground, and have the residents killed. They are all alive and in good health.’

‘But under imperial control!’ Cloud yelled. ‘You knew they were my supply lines, and you’ve cut them off from the castle.’

‘Was I supposed to help you outlast me in this war?’ Sephiroth said. ‘Of course I’m cutting off your supply lines. I never intended for you to hide in that castle for an entire year. It’s a waste of resources, not to mention a war of attrition does nothing but lower morale and suck up time and money.’

‘So you’ve always intended to cut off my supply lines and colonize all the settlements until I surrender my castle?’

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth said, almost baffled. ‘What did you think we were trying to do here?’

‘Then why the fuck did you send for me every day for negotiations? What’s there to negotiate when you’ve already won the war?’

‘Time. I want to shorten the duration of this war. It’s unnecessary.’

Cloud folded his face into his upturned palms, and Sephiroth could hear him breathe in steadily, in and out, in and out.

When he finally put down his hands, his expression was cool and calm.

Sephiroth shifted in his seat, felt that rolled-up stack of papers that he had tucked underneath his jacket for safekeeping. For days it had been there, as if it was some sort of lucky charm. He liked the weight of the sheaf of papers against his ribs, a reminder to keep calm and centered, and to remember the greater goal he was trying to achieve.

‘I need a cup of tea,’ Cloud said wearily. ‘Or something stronger, if you have it.’

Sephiroth gestured to the little kitchenette in the corner, where bottles of alcohol sat on his shelves. He didn’t partake, but Genesis did, and he enjoyed raiding Sephiroth’s shelves as much as he enjoyed getting on Sephiroth’s nerves.

Cloud got up, tapped two glasses onto the counter, and poured the both of them three fingers’ worth of what looked like whiskey, the type that would burn going down. Without turning, he said, ‘Would you sit with me? By the fire? Today’s cold snap has been chillier than Shiva’s tits.’

‘Of course,’ he said courteously. He got up, and headed to the rug in front of the electric fireplace with the simulated flames. It was a cozy spot, and Sephiroth gently put Masamune down before folding down into a sitting position. Cloud walked over, holding two glasses, and sat down next to him, their shoulders touching.

Then Cloud laid his head on Sephiroth’s shoulder, closed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was more exhausted than Sephiroth had ever heard. ‘You know, I really wished we didn’t get to this point, Sephiroth. I … I’m sorry about my stubbornness. And how we can’t see eye to eye. I do respect you, and I am so very fond of you.’ His voice was soft. ‘But I can’t see a way out of this.’

‘We can work it out,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Just … don’t shut me out. There’s a solution to every problem, we just need to find it. And I have been trying to compromise, my little cat. It’s you who has to take a step back now,’ Sephiroth chided.

‘I know,’ Cloud admitted, and he handed a glass to Sephiroth. ‘But … you know where I’m coming from, right? My people, they only have me. Although I’m not doing a bang-up job, am I?’ he said in a defeated voice.

‘You’re doing your best,’ Sephiroth defended. ‘You have your people’s welfare at heart. They are lucky to have you.’

‘Will you promise to spare them?’ Cloud asked. ‘Everyone last one of them?’

‘I can’t promise that,’ Sephiroth said. ‘But I will try. If they do not resist, I will allow them to keep their lives. They can start anew, either here or Midgar, or somewhere else. But they will be unharmed. Every single last one of them will be granted Shinra citizenship, if that’s what they wish.’

‘You will keep this promise to me, I hope,’ Cloud said. Then took a sip of his whiskey.

Sephiroth took a large sip of his, found it a lot more bitter than anticipated. It glided down his throat, burned the entire way. It warmed him up slightly, he found. The sweet smell of vanilla lingered in his nose, and that woodsy bitterness stayed on his tongue. But even as it settled in his stomach, he sighed gustily, with disappointment, then resignation.

‘My little cat, just please … don’t do anything stupid that we can’t come back from,’ Sephiroth warned gently. ‘All of this can be resolved amicably. I want bloodshed as much as you do.’ He got to his feet, leaving the glass of whiskey on the rug, calculated he only had a few moments. He picked up Masamune.

‘Where are you going?’ Cloud asked, slight alarm spiking his voice.

‘To bed,’ Sephiroth said. ‘To sleep off the drug that you slipped into my drink. Nibelheim Valerian, I presume?’ And it tasted like a fairly strong dose too. He turned, and headed towards the bed. He did not want to spend the next few hours sprawled on the cold, uneven ground.

Cloud’s mask of calm slipped, only to be replaced by a stricken expression. ‘How did you know?’ he whispered.

‘It’s not the first time someone’s tried to kill me by spiking my drink, little cat,’ Sephiroth said, and he took the few steps towards the bed, almost staggering on the last. His reflexes and gross motor skills were beginning to dull. He might not have been a regular drinker, but even he knew what a spiked drink tasted like. He had enough of that crap growing up in the Midgar labs, with Hojo throwing everything but the kitchen sink at him for his experiments in a bid to create the perfect SOLDIER. ‘Although I guess I should be thankful you’re only putting me to sleep instead of outright killing me.’

‘I’m sorry …’ Cloud said, and his breath hitched in fear and panic. ‘I’m … I just … I didn’t feel like I have much of a choice. We’ve been outmaneuvered since day one, and I didn’t realize it until today. You promised to keep my people safe. Please … please remember that.’

Sephiroth thought that Cloud sure had a lot of guts demanding something from him when he was the one who had spiked his drink, but even as his vision swam he understood why Cloud had done it. His little cat was unschooled in war, and had found himself losing even before the war had begun. He had felt like he had been pushed into the corner, even though Sephiroth’s tactics had been nothing less than gentle. He could only hope Cloud wouldn’t do anything too foolish.

Cloud fell to his knees, pressed into the bed even as Sephiroth lay down and made himself comfortable on the sheets. Masamune lay next to him, and he felt light-headed, so he closed his eyes. He could still feel the jut of the papers underneath his jacket.

And of all times, he remembered the words that his redheaded bastard of a friend said to him when he had returned to Midgar with bad news. ‘He loves you, Sephiroth. He’s lost, he’s scared. You got to be kind to him. Let his love lead him back to you.’

He sighed, and pulled it out, pressed them into Cloud’s hands. ‘I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and … I couldn’t make up my mind. So I’ll leave it up to you. I simply hope … that you will come back to me. Eventually.’

Cloud unrolled the papers, his jaw dropping open when he saw what it was.

But Sephiroth couldn’t say more. His body slowly relaxed, and he felt like he was carried away by the waves. So he simply closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of Cloud’s fingers intertwined in his, and let himself slip away.


	18. Chapter 18

Cloud sat in a chair that faced the window. Inside the darkness of his bedroom, he wrapped his cloak over himself a little tighter. The fireplace was roaring away, snapping and crackling. His fingers toyed idly with the signet ring he had been entrusted with when his brother had died.

He refocused his thoughts. He didn’t want to think about his brother. The thought of him brought untold anger into his body, and Cloud feel his back hurt from how stiffly he was holding himself.

How many days had it been since the Silver Demon of Midgar had actually deigned to come down from his high horse to destroy his kingdom? Eight days? Nine days?

The moment that the Silver Demon had stepped his booted foot onto Nibelheim soil, there had been no question whatsoever that he would dominate the proceedings. Cloud had forgot – or had chosen to forget – his years of war with Wutai, and before that, hundreds of missions as a SOLDIER First Class. No matter the mission, no matter the battle, his goal was always to outwit and outlast his opponents, and there were rarely any undesirable outcomes. He had been a highly ranked military asset to Shinra, because his highly tactical mind was calm, and his inordinately skilled hand was without mercy.

And thus they had been outmaneuvered since day one, and Cloud hadn’t even fucking realized it until it was too late.

And yet, there had been a part that Cloud recognized as foolish hope. He had hoped that it would be different – simply because he had seen past that stoic façade and to the man behind it. But a leopard never changed its spots, and in this case, the man only knew how to outwit and conquer.

It was like trying to defeat Sephiroth at spars, Cloud thought. The man’s skills as a swordsman had sometimes eclipsed his reputation as a general, and Cloud had let himself buy into that stupid idea, that non-existent possibility that he could be outwitted in some way – as long as he worked harder and thought clearer and poured his mind and soul into this. He was wrong. Sephiroth got what he wanted – always.

The first thing Sephiroth did when he had arrived was demand a meeting, and then tossed his copy of the tributary agreement down on the table for all to see. There, among all the complicated legalese, was the lurid green ink of Sephiroth’s signature, full of flourishes and curves. And on the opposite side was his own, in dark blue ink. His own fucking full name, the one he had signed during his wedding.

Sephiroth stared down at him, coldness in those green eyes, as if daring him to refute the irrefutable, undeniable fact that it was Cloud who had breached the agreement, and he was the aggressor in all of this.

There was a very brief moment where his throat closed up. In deep distaste, apprehension, and anxiety. But most importantly, with a miasma of fear that choked all the air out of him. He had simply stared at the document, his eyes hazy at the edges, and he felt a little light-headed. That was when he discovered that he had been holding his breath.

He let it out, and averted his gaze.

He never wanted this in the first place, but he had single-handedly gotten them to this point. He would give anything to go back to a little over a month ago, when Sephiroth had put out his hand and said, ‘Come home with me,’, and Cloud wished he had said, ‘Yes, gladly.’ And fuck everyone on the council, and fuck everyone else in the kingdom. And most importantly, the legacy of his forebears could go right to hell.

But he hadn’t.

So he had to keep living this nightmare.

Sometime during those early hours of the morning, the sky lightened into watery pinks and blues that streaked the sky. He stared hard at the grey landscape outside the castle, his gaze riveted on that single tent in the center. The tent was laughably easily to spot – it was the largest, with a large empty space ringing around it, presumably for privacy. The closest tent next to his was bright gold and crimson, leaving no doubt of its ownership. He squinted and leaned forward.

Of course the man was up in those ungodly hours. Cloud watched him begin his morning run, and when he finished it, he returned to his tent. By then, Cloud found himself stepping out onto the stone bridge. He was thoroughly exhausted. His ass ached – he hadn’t had a good fuck for a while now, and since Sephiroth had arrived, he had been fucked every which way, and none of it was ever gentle.

As he walked down the path to Sephiroth’s tent, he felt shame and anger burning inside of him. It was almost enough to deter him from continuing on his path.

Almost.

Not quite.

He found the man just as he finished up his morning ablutions. Beads of water gleamed still on his naked body, and the fucker didn’t even have the grace to look startled at Cloud’s unannounced arrival. Nothing fazed the man, and Cloud was tired of him and his inhuman perfection.

Cloud crossed the room, and draped his arms across that body, and pulled him close. The voices in his head wouldn’t shut up, and that deep thread of anxiety was constantly running inside his body, and if he had to think about the situation one more time he would start screaming and never stop. ‘What do you want from me?’ he whispered. ‘What else will you take from me?’

Sephiroth’s gaze was cool as always, passive indifference in his eyes. He was like a perfect god, who cared nothing for humans and their earthly, petty concerns beneath his notice. Those lips parted, merely said the words in a calm, buttery voice that send shivers down his spine and raised his gooseflesh – ‘You know what I want, Cloud.’

Cloud swallowed the sob of hysteria that rose to his lips. He couldn’t give him what he wanted, so he did the next best thing instead – he dropped onto his knees, and worshipped the man with his mouth.

When he had brought the great general to a trembling orgasm, Cloud retreated to the tiny bathroom to rinse out of his mouth and throw water on his face.

What was he doing?

Sleeping with the enemy, quite literally too. How low could he sink? He was already on his knees. His kingdom was in jeopardy and all he could think of when was the next time he could get that cock inside of him and get fucked until his eyes rolled to the back of his head?

He looked at his hollowed-out expression on his face in the small mirror, and saw the moment the door opened behind him. He saw those eyes first, now slightly softened but as cool as always. His arms curled around Cloud’s stiff torso in a vise-like grip, and he bent his head, trailing kisses down his shoulders and back.

‘I have to go,’ Cloud began, and Sephiroth shoved him forward, pinning him against the sink and trapping him under his own warm body. He slid two fingers past Cloud’s lips, and into his willing mouth. Still looking at Sephiroth in the mirror, he sucked on those fingers, licked them.

Sephiroth trailed one hand down his lower back, and yanked down Cloud’s pants, exposed his buttocks. His entrance was still stinging from their rough sex the night before, and he hadn’t bothered lubing up today because he thought there was simply no way that he’d let Sephiroth fuck his swollen hole with that huge cock of his. And even so, his traitorous hips swung and he arched his back, leaning into the hand that cupped his ass.

Sephiroth removed his slick fingers from Cloud’s mouth, and slid them gently into the cleft of Cloud’s ass, teasing at the entrance, rubbing circles and going back and forth until the muscles began spreading open for him. He put in one finger, and then eventually the second.

Cloud closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of those fingers sliding in and out, curling softly against his prostate, giving him a highly pleasurable massage that sent tingles down his spine. Sephiroth’s other hand now curled around his front to fist his now erect dick, stroking him up and down at a languid, easy pace.

There was no room for anything else in that little bathroom except for him to lean into those sensations. He loved that tight grip of his cock, creating the perfect friction that riffed against his nerves, and those fingers up his ass, giving him the feeling of fullness and teasing at his secret spot.

But when Sephiroth sped up his stroking, Cloud sobbed mindlessly, his hands death-gripping the sink as he begged for release. ‘Faster,’ he cried.

‘Beg me,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I want to hear you say it.’

‘Please,’ he sobbed, feeling that deep pleasure in his belly crest until he was certain he had to come or die trying. ‘Please, let me come!’

Sephiroth bit down on the tender spot on his neck, sending an electrifying shock of pleasure through his system, eventually igniting the pressure until it blew into a white-hot burst of stars. Cloud’s knees buckled and he would have crashed to the ground if not for the man behind him still holding him up.

When the world finally pieced itself back together, Cloud shakily got to his feet, and cleaned himself, dressing himself with haste. Sitting with his back against the door was Sephiroth, his long, silvery hair pooled on the ground behind him, those green eyes following his every move.

Cloud couldn’t even fucking look at him.

He could barely stand to look at himself.

Gods above, his walk of shame back to the castle was literally that – he could feel his cheeks aflame, and his body warm with the fire of disgrace. It was a rather unwelcome feeling. No matter how wanton he had been in bed, he never once felt shame. But now, having walked out of enemy camp with his muscles languorous and relaxed even in the biting cold, he felt those gazes on him like lit matches trying to set him on fire.

He made his way back into his room, where he nervously and irritably shucked his gloves so he could warm his cold hands by the fire. And that was pretty much the last thing he remembered.

One moment he was there, by the fire, and the next, he had blacked out on the carpet.

He woke up again, shocked. A quick look at his clock told him that he had been out cold for a couple of hours.

A couple of hours he had lost to the dark void of blessed unconsciousness. He wished he could simply lay down forever.

These spells were becoming more and more frequent, but he supposed it was a small price to pay for the abuse he was putting his body through.

Exhaustion crashed over him like waves. It was like he had forgotten how to sleep. Every time he had tried to lay down his thoughts would simply plague him until it was agony trying to force himself to sleep. So it had been simpler to stay up instead, and keep going until his body crashed on its own. His body was no longer his own. But did it matter anyway? Everything in his life was spiraling out of control.

He got up, and washed his face. When he came back into the room, he found that he was not alone.

And from the darkness, Vincent slinked into view, his eyes with a deep understanding of Cloud’s recent whereabouts and activities. He had known, of course. Vincent always knew.

Cloud had felt terrible when he had left Sephiroth’s quarters, but it was nothing compared to what he felt now. He avoided Vincent’s gaze, and sat down in the chair by the fire.

Vincent joined him in the chair opposite his.

‘How are the negotiations going?’ Vincent asked.

Cloud laughed mirthlessly. ‘You know there’s no such thing, Vincent. We accomplished nothing today of note, but thank you for asking.’

Vincent demurred politely. ‘Whatever you do in the privacy of the bedroom is not for me to judge. You are, after all, still married to each other.’

An awkward silence fell between them.

‘How long has this been happening? Your fainting spells, I mean?’

Cloud felt bile rise through him. He refused to answer the question.

‘You need to sleep, Cloud. You can’t think clearly if you don’t sleep.’

Cloud slammed his hand down resoundingly against the arm of the chair. ‘I can’t sleep!’ he yelled. His chest heaved deeply. Why was he so angry? Why was he losing his temper so quickly?

Vincent stayed silent for a good minute. ‘Talk to me, Cloud.’

Silence. Then it came pouring out of his mouth like an unstoppable flood.

‘I don’t know how long this can go on for,’ Cloud admitted. He hated the sound of defeat in his voice. ‘I don’t know how long _I_ can do this for. I feel like I’m losing my mind. Everywhere I turn, he’s there. He has us pinned, Vincent. It’s like one big joke to him. I’m not a king, I’m a fool.’ All he could feel was crushing disappointment towards himself. That sense of helplessness overcame him.

He pushed it away. He had to keep moving. Keep looking ahead.

He can’t look back.

‘Don’t be afraid, Your Highness. We’re not out of options yet. Remember our final plan. The airships are all ready and fueled, and waiting only a single command.’

Cloud’s head despaired at the thought of abandoning Nibelheim. He did not come this far to defend his kingdom’s sovereignty only to abandon the fucking kingdom itself. What the hell kind of option was it, he had thought when the idea was first floated by his council. He nearly had a conniption.

But the longer he thought about it, and the longer Sephiroth toyed with him, the more it is becoming an actual possibility.

‘We said we wouldn’t consider it until we’ve arrived at the very end,’ Cloud said. ‘We’re not there yet, are we?’ He had to visibly calm himself. The fact that he even said the word ‘yet’ implies that something inside him knows it is a lost cause. He had no doubt that Sephiroth will make good on his promise to burn the kingdom down.

His people will die, because of him.

His castle will burn, because of him.

His kingdom will fall, because of him.

Why the fuck did he think he could do this? He was never groomed to rule. He had been groomed to be a good fuck in bed, and to be the dignified spouse, loyal to the emperor. He had failed on multiple counts.

‘I’m going back to him,’ Cloud whispered, more brokenly than he could admit to anyone else. Not Cid, not his mother, not to Tifa. Not even to Sephiroth. But Vincent understood. He reached out to hold Cloud’s hand.

‘You may not have to,’ Vincent said, and sighed. ‘We may have overestimated our ability to resist his influence, but we still have options. So long as you are in the castle, he won’t harm you. Or the people. We just need to use that.’

Later, he called for the small council to convene. ‘The situation is now untenable,’ Cloud said calmly. ‘They have taken the entire western area of Mt. Nibel, and the settlements in that region are now under Shinra control. From what we can tell, the villagers were given the option to stay on, or to leave. Many left to the next settlements only for it to be overrun anyway. We’ve had reports of deaths by those who have actively resisted, but for the most part they’ve chosen to stay.’

Cloud fights the rising bile in his throat, and pushes it down resolutely.

‘Based on the current calculations, it will take them another two months or so to take over all the settlements in the mountains. If they do that, they will effectively cut off our supply routes and our only escape route,’ Vincent said. ‘Based on that, I recommend we speed up our plans to abandon the castle and make our way out of Nibelheim, or surrender. If we hold out in the castle, we can last up to a year with our current supplies, with strict rationing. We can hope that in that time Shinra changes their mind and decide you’re not worth the war effort. But if they don’t … make no mistake, by the end of the year, we will either be dead or the castle will have been breached.’

Cloud’s jaw tightened.

Cid, being Cid, was his usual irresponsibly feisty self. ‘I say we fight to the death, take out as many soldiers as we can. Show them that Nibel people are not a bunch of milksops.’

Terrius sighed. ‘Yes, yes, we know what you want.’

Tifa leaned forward. ‘We’ll be completely out of options by the time they take over the eastern settlements. We have to leave before that happens.’

Cloud turned to Tifa. ‘And abandon Nibelheim?’ he asked incredulously.

To his surprise, his mother agreed with Tifa. ‘We can rebuild, Cloud. The castle is not the kingdom. The kingdom is the king and his people. If we have to rebuild somewhere else, we can.’

‘We can take our chances, escape with our lives. Like Claudia said, rebuild somewhere else. This castle is a pile of rocks at the end of the day. Our people are hardy and resilient. And in all honesty, this land is harsh and our people have struggled for too long now,’ Tifa said.

‘You think it’s a good idea to upend these people’s lives and get them to abandon their homes in order to follow us when we don’t even have anywhere else to go?’ Cloud asked again in disbelief, but this time with anger flooding his tone. ‘Fuck, I can’t even believe we’re talking about this again. No. We have to consider surrendering. We can try to negotiate lighter sentences. I think … as long as we fulfill the general’s conditions, we could end up with the best case scenario here.’ He swallowed bitterly. ‘He’s not an unfair man.’

‘Are we even talking about the same man here?’ Tifa said, slamming her hand against the table. ‘You are talking about _the_ Sephiroth, right? The one who butchered Wutai? The one who killed his own liege?’

‘Have you lost your mind, kid?’ Cid barked. ‘If we surrender to him now, we have no leverage. He’s going to destroy your kingdom and kill your people.’

‘But … he might not,’ Cloud said.

‘How sure are you?’ Vincent narrowed his eyes at Cloud.

‘I … I’m not sure at all,’ Cloud admitted.

And there was the crux of the matter. He didn’t know at all.

‘Here are the facts. This is the man who killed hundreds in the military coup five years ago. And before that, he slaughtered thousands. How certain are you he won’t resort to the same here?’

Cloud pushed his balled fist against his mouth. ‘I am not certain.’

‘I’m not questioning your judgement,’ Vincent said gently. ‘But is it possible that you might be wrong? And it’s too big of a risk to stake the fate of our people based on what you think might happen, considering you’ve only really known him for a month?’

‘But to think about running?’ Cloud pointed out. ‘It’s a massive undertaking to evacuate an entire nation of people, as you know.’

‘Better to be on the run than dead,’ Terrius said.

Cloud pressed his fingers to his closed lids. Tifa stirred in her seat, her face still pale, but she was regaining strength day by day. ‘I wonder … our allies. Wutai. They may be able to render assistance.’

‘They are still under Shinra control, last I checked,’ Cid said. ‘They’re still part of the empire.’

‘But they have no love for Shinra,’ Tifa said. ‘They function autonomously enough. Kisaragi’s heir took over and she’s formidable. They might just consider aiding us for a while, just to spite Midgar, and especially the Silver Demon.’

‘It’s not an entirely bad idea,’ Vincent said. ‘As part of their last treaty, Sephiroth was banned from physically stepping foot onto Wutai ground.’

It was true. The Wutaians hated the man. After all, he had single-handedly slaughtered many of their brethren, and he had been the poster boy for the war, on the opposing side. He was the one who had stormed up the pagoda, sword in hand and door in the other, forcing Godo Kisaragi at blade point to surrender.

In their treaty with Shinra, they had added one condition, a final fuck-you. The general was prohibited from stepping onto sacred Wutai ground, and the emperor, who had wanted the war over with, did not see it as a deal breaker. Sephiroth didn’t seem to care either way, so the treaty was signed, with that ridiculous addendum.

‘He won’t be able to step a foot there without incurring another war. I can reach out to her personally, float the idea of temporarily sheltering us, if you wish, Your Highness,’ Tifa said, deferring to Cloud.

‘You know, we’ve bitched and moaned so many years about our low population, but maybe it’s for a reason. We can literally fit our entire kingdom of people on the airships that we have,’ Cid joked. Nibelheim was tiny, roughly the size of Midgar’s less populous sectors. Theoretically, evacuating all of their citizens to safety was definitely plausible. And yet …

All these ideas of actually running away were ridiculous. Laughable, almost.

But Cloud could not deny that there was some sort of allure to it. His mother was right. They could rebuild. Did it matter if he couldn’t save the castle if he could save his people’s lives? Nothing was more important than their lives. Would they be disgruntled and angry to lose their home? Undoubtedly. But if that meant they could live?

There was no way of beating Sephiroth, he knew now.

But he had also beat Sephiroth once, at their spar in Costa del Sol. And Sephiroth had called it cheating.

But it was one way to get out of the stranglehold that Sephiroth had him in.

‘Do it,’ Cloud ordered Tifa. ‘Keep it quiet. If we do end up escaping, I don’t want us to be tracked down. I don’t want us to be found. He might not be able to enter Wutai, but his army certainly can. I’ve already started one war, I don’t want to end up triggering another.’

His mother leaned over the table to lay a warm hand on his. ‘It doesn’t matter if this place disappears off the face of the planet, Cloud. We can start over, anywhere. And we will follow you, no matter what you choose.’

‘Without a doubt,’ Cid said. ‘We’re fucking Nibelheimians, and a castle don’t mean jack. We’ll start over in the Northern fucking Continent if we have to.’

Terrius nodded. ‘We will persevere, Your Highness. Our people are strong and loyal. We’re mountain people. This is nothing but a tiny setback. And your people will follow as long as you give them a reason to.’

‘There is something else we need to consider,’ Claudia said. ‘The continuation of your legacy. Cloud, we’ve discussed it, and if we want to give the people a reason to follow us, we need to void your marriage. Tifa is willing, as you know.’

Terrius nodded gravely. ‘If we are able to assure the people there’s an heir in the works, it will give our plans more urgency and legitimacy.’

Cloud turned slowly to Tifa, who refused to meet his eyes. ‘And you’re in agreement with this?’

She lifts her chin. ‘We can do it two ways, Cloud. One, we get married.’

‘But the problem with this approach is that you’re still married,’ Vincent said. ‘Unless we can find some way of voiding the tributary agreement and hence your marriage, you will be committing bigamy. And that will cast too many doubts on the legitimacy of the heir that you produce.’

‘And option number two, is that we conceive, and pass the child off as Aldrich’s.’

Cloud leaned back against his chair. More deception. Great. ‘So we’re basically lying, then.’

‘Her pregnancy wasn’t yet known to the public, Cloud,’ Vincent said. ‘It was still in the early stages and they hadn’t gotten around to announcing it yet when … everything went down. If you are able to conceive immediately, the timing will fit, but just barely.’

‘You want me to knock up my sister-in-law and pass my child off as my dead brother’s,’ Cloud said flatly. And he was almost pleased to see some of them flinch at his stark words.

But not Vincent. He shrugged. ‘You and your brother share the same blood. It’s not a deception if the heir still retains the royal bloodline. We can spin it as Aldrich’s final legacy before his untimely death, if you will.’

Cloud looked to Tifa again. ‘And you agree with all this shit?’

Tifa lifted her eyes to him this time. ‘We don’t have many choices, Cloud.’

‘We can go for the first, with one caveat. If we can get our hands on the general’s copy of the tributary agreement,’ Vincent said. ‘The one he brought with him.’

‘What?’ Cloud asked.

‘There are two original contracts, one in his keeping and one is yours. Yours is in the archive. If we can get our hands on his and destroy it, we can void the agreement that way. Once you are married, legally there’s not much he can do.’

‘He brought his copy and showed it to us on the first day,’ Cid said. ‘I remember that. So it stands to reason that he has it with him, here. Maybe in his command center. Desk drawer.’

‘And you’re the only one who’s been granted free access in and out of his place,’ Vincent said. ‘Perhaps … a few drops of Nibelheim Valerian will do it. We’ve got some vials still in stock. Distilled, pure.’

Cloud considered the possibility of drugging the man.

‘Then rifle around while he’s out? Best to just kill the asshole,’ Cid said. ‘If he’s dead, he can’t command his armies.’

Cloud opened his mouth, then closed it. Kill Sephiroth? Could he do it?

Why was he even considering it?

What kind of monster was he that he could consider drugging and killing his spouse?

He felt like a cornered animal.

Vincent demurred. ‘It’s not that simple. Even if the emperor was dead, he still have generals that would scramble to take over. They might be less restrained than the Silver Demon. It’s an unknown risk. Too unpredictable.’

Cloud stopped hearing everything after that.

He reflected on how he managed to get to this terrible, abhorrent position. His short reign was marked by disaster, and now he was resorting to trickery. To the unthinkable. How long until he lost his own humanity in a bid to get out of this slowly-tightening noose? To give in to the man who had single-handedly put him into this dreaded position felt like a true surrender, and he knew he would lose something in the process. His dignity? His pride? Himself?

How could he get out of it? He literally couldn’t fight.

But he could run.

Cloud slammed his hand down against the table and stood up, before stalking out of the room.

He could run.

He had to run.

Fuck, he couldn’t think.

*

Tifa had managed to make contact with Wutai, and as soon as he secured their cooperation they would make their move. In the meantime, Cloud holed himself up in his room, feeling like he was slowly losing his mind. He stopped visiting Sephiroth, and the general continued taking the settlements at a breathtakingly rapid pace, as in retaliation for his absence, until they moved closer and closer, unknowingly, to their only escape route.

And that was when Cloud knew that the game was up.

His men had spied a band of soldiers moving to a mountain pass. It was a small group, because they were completely unaware of how important that location was. It was surrounded by bramble bushes, with stacked ledges that mountain goats often used to leap to higher areas. The Nibelheimians knew it well of course, and they called that particular road Treachery Pass, because of how dangerous it was.

Cloud ordered a group of archers to dispatch of them swiftly, and for his people to begin evacuating.

The initial conflict was enough to draw Sephiroth’s attention, and it worked, because Sephiroth demanded his presence almost immediately.

He went to Sephiroth with one vial of Nibelheim valerian tucked in the deep pockets of his coat. Despite him fearing that their half-baked plans would not work, by some strange miracle, it actually did. Sephiroth took the glass of whiskey without even questioning it, and Cloud hated the fact that he had done so precisely because he trusted his spouse.

He was lower than scum.

When Sephiroth had walked to the bed, Cloud was puzzled. And it turned out that he was the one who had been more surprised by the time Sephiroth had passed out, blade next to him, his hands slack with unconsciousness.

Cloud looked up from his kneeling position, eyes blurry from the hot, stinging tears. The man lay there in repose, his sleeping profile a genuine thing of beauty. He had never really seen the man asleep before. He had always gotten up before Cloud did, and went to sleep much later.

He could reach over, grab Masamune now that her owner was not conscious to protest his objection, and slice that blade across the man’s pale, exposed neck.

And he genuinely contemplated doing it. Rage burned deep inside of him.

‘How could you do this to me?’ Cloud whispered to the sleeping man. ‘You fucking, cheating bastard.’ He held the roll of papers in his trembling hands. He had thought he would be able to find it and hold it in his hands, but never had he once considered that perhaps it was only because Sephiroth was the one who handed it to him.

It was a fool’s hope, and an idiotic dream.

But here it was.

In his hands. Sephiroth’s only copy of the tributary agreement.

He could toss it into the fire, and that would be the end of it.

They would be done with each other. After all, his own copy had already been sacrificed to the hearth moments after they hatched their plans. This was what they needed to tip the scales. All he had to do was destroy it, and Sephiroth would no longer have any legal claim over Cloud.

He pressed wet, tear-filled trembling kisses to those lips. Listened to that quiet, predictable rhythm of his chest rising and falling. Said goodbye in a jagged whisper that didn’t sound like it came from him at all.

Then he walked out of the tent.

He should have felt like a free man, and yet, his heart was hollow and empty. Like he could never be allowed to feel joy again.

He was halfway back to the castle when Genesis stood in his path. ‘Prince Consort,’ Genesis said coldly. ‘I take it from the chaos in the castle that your people have decided to make a move.’ He gestured towards the entire fleet of Nibelheim airships that have risen into the night sky, flying away. Cloud knew that there are three more on the ground, meant to ferry away the last of the Nibel people.

‘Genesis,’ Cloud said, his heart pounding madly in his ears. He had been hoping that by knocking Sephiroth out it would temporarily disrupt the chain of command, and buy them enough time to make their escape. ‘Please.’

‘And judging by Sephiroth’s complete lack of response, you’ve done something to him.’ Genesis’s eyes flashed with a controlled rage. ‘Did you kill him?’ The way he said it warned Cloud that if Genesis did not like his response, his head would part with his neck in a quick minute.

‘No,’ Cloud said.

‘You’d better not be lying to me, Prince Consort. If Sephiroth is dead, there is no corner in Gaia that will keep you safe from me.’

‘He’s not dead,’ Cloud said, and swallowed thickly. ‘I … couldn’t.’

That mollified Genesis, but only slightly. ‘And this is the path you have chosen.’

Cloud lifted his chin.

Genesis sighed with disapproval. ‘You’ve chosen to run.’

‘Are you going to stop me?’

The question seemed to arouse conflict within Genesis. ‘I don’t know, I’m still deciding.’

Cloud slowly drew the Fusion Sword from his back and held it in front of him.

Genesis glared at him. ‘You might have been sparring for Sephiroth for a month, but I’ve been sparring for most of my life. You’re no match for me, and you’re fool if you think you are.’

‘I don’t. But I won’t come quietly. I have to fight. This is my own future at stake. And the survival of my people is imperative.’

Genesis stepped up to Cloud, and used a finger to gently tip the sword away from him. ‘Then go.’

Startled, Cloud blinked and took a few steps back. Then blurted out, ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me. My loyalty is to Sephiroth, and Sephiroth alone. I just want his happiness. And what you two are doing … you’re just hurting each other. I wouldn’t have chosen to do it this way, but I suppose this is one way to end it.’

Genesis dropped the anger as his shoulders slumped in resignation. But he squared himself, stood up stiffly, walked the two steps to Cloud, and bent the knee. ‘Goodbye, my beautiful blond prince. I wish you all the best.’ He pressed warm lips to the back of Cloud’s hand, in reverence and respect that one might expect from a dutiful subject.

Cloud placed his hand on the back of Genesis’s silky red hair, trying desperately to convey his thanks and his affection.

He wished the man under his touch was the silver-haired general. But there was no use. He tried not to think of his own husband, and that powerful but cursed bond that once tied them together.

And then he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO LISTEN. I'm sorry. 
> 
> And to help make things easier for you: 
> 
> Text ASPARAGUS to express frustration for Cloud and his apparent foolishness, and disbelief at how shit has gone down. 
> 
> Text WATERMELON to express sympathy, and how you totes get what he's done, because you would have done it too. Maybe. 
> 
> Text UPIECEOFSHIT if you'd like to smack me in the face. 
> 
> Text REMAKE if you've been playing the remake. So have I, and Hard Mode is currently kicking my ass if it will make you feel any better.


	19. Chapter 19

When he had come to, his entire world had been altered irrevocably.

He had awakened about a day later, completely groggy and out of it, having almost never woken up like this. Cloud must have been really heavy-handed with the drug. He felt like he had been slammed into by a truck, then run over by a bulldozer, and smacked around with a wrecking ball. By the time he had finally established what time, and what day it was, he had been stunned senseless. All he could do was sit down heavily on the side of the bed, attempting to pull the hazy vestiges of his thoughts together.

And gods above, for the first time in his life he still wished that infernal mako was still running rampant in his system. That way, he wouldn’t have felt so … dreadfully human.

Cloud had pulled the covers over him, and he assumed that when his attendants had checked, they were too afraid to wake up him out of his deathly sleep. As long as he was still breathing, they weren’t too alarmed.

But that did not explain why Genesis hadn’t done anything about it.

He looked around first. Nothing had been taken. Masamune was safe by his side. The only thing missing was Cloud, and the tributary agreement, which he had handed over voluntarily anyway. Nothing seemed amiss.

It was a fair assumption that Cloud had drugged him so he could kill Sephiroth while he slept. And because he woke up alive, it was most likely that something else was afoot. He simply had to figure out what.

He showered in cold water, hoping that it would help him shake off the last of the unnatural grogginess. He got dressed, and walked out into the thin, wintry sunlight. He needed to find out for himself what else had changed.

He found out quickly enough.

The landscape was still.

Too damned still.

He instantly knew something had gone terribly amiss.

The castle looked the same, but there was no one on the ramparts, and certainly no blond who looked down at him from his habitual perch from one of the bedroom windows.

He summoned Genesis to him.

For once, Genesis had no sass. He made a straight report about Nibelheim airships lifting into the air and heading west, and he had made no efforts to pursue because he did not have any standing commands from Sephiroth. And then he spoiled the straight face by twitching once. Guilt or fear? He then stared at Sephiroth, almost defiantly, almost like he was daring him to refute the report.

‘You didn’t think to stop the airships?’ Sephiroth said.

‘No. Without any direct orders from you, I stood the officers down. If you wanted me to shoot at the airships, you would have told me to do so. But you didn’t.’

‘And then?’ Sephiroth’s voice was dangerous. Genesis was cruising on technicalities here, and it wasn’t like his friend to do shit like this. He hadn’t earned his promotion to general because of his campy inclinations for drama and because people thought he looked intimidating in his ridiculous crimson coat. He was too terrifyingly competent to make any sort of mistake. Which meant there was only one possible explanation.

He distinctly remembered Genesis saying to him, ‘I will not fight this war on your behalf.’

How much had he cooperated with Cloud? And since when did Sephiroth let their friendship get in the way? If this was any other officer, Sephiroth would have shattered his kneecaps already.

‘I just watched … and I waited,’ Genesis said. ‘I sent a messenger to your tent, and he told me you were sleeping. That led me to think you just weren’t very concerned.’

Sephiroth flexed his stiff jaw. Why was Genesis going so far for Cloud? Whose side was he on?

Genesis looked like he was holding his breath.

The tension in the tent was unbelievable. But Genesis kept his gaze fixed on Sephiroth, as if waiting, and seeing if his gamble would play out.

‘Get out,’ Sephiroth said in barely a whisper, and Genesis walked out without another word. Sephiroth was afraid that if Genesis stayed any longer, he would have done something absolutely unforgivable.

And now that he suspected that he had lost Cloud, it would be unthinkable to lose Genesis, and by extension, Angeal too.

He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. So he stayed his hand.

The castle was now completely sealed against any incoming or outgoing access, and no communication could pass through, which left him with no way to speak to Cloud, if he was still in the castle. He waited exactly for one day.

Sephiroth ordered all of the remaining settlements destroyed. And strangely enough, he spared whoever was left. From his tent, he could see as the settlements went up, one by one, into orange fire and smoke.

And still, nothing.

He ordered his soldiers to begin sieging the castle. The lack of resistance told him what he already knew.

Why did he allow himself to persist in denial when he already knew the truth?

Perhaps it was because this was the one time it really mattered. The truth was unspeakably difficult, and he did not want to face it, because it would _hurt_.

He sat quietly in his tent, prohibiting entry to all unless they were making their reports. He made sure specifically Genesis was barred from entering.

Deep inside of him a deep thread of anger smoldered quietly, and he stoked it. He had given Cloud the tributary agreement. Given him the choice. Like Aerith had urged. And Genesis. And Angeal. And Zack. He had to let Cloud go in hopes that he would return on his own.

But it seemed like he was never coming home.

And Sephiroth told himself that if it came to that, he had to accept it, and move forward.

That had been the risk when he had handed over the tributary agreement. That there was a chance that it wouldn’t go his way. But the anger and the bitterness inside him was fearsome.

The sieging took a lot longer than he had expected. Nibelheim Castle looked like a stack of ruined stones, but it proved surprisingly sturdy for a stone castle of nearly four hundred years. It was built well, he had to admit, and meant to function as a fortified citadel. It ate up a nice chunk of their explosive supplies in order to force entry into the castle.

He stepped into the castle. It was far too quiet, eerily silent, almost.

He let his memory guide him down the hallway, up two sets of staircases, and down another winding corridor before arriving at a specific door. It had been left ajar.

What had he been expecting? Why did hope burn inside of him?

He pushed the door open.

The room was as clean and tidy as the day he had left it to return to Midgar. Cloud’s little knick knacks were still there, as was the large majority of his things – books, papers, clothes. The room smelled faintly of him still – smoky magnolia. But the ashes in the fireplace were long cold.

The desk was ruthlessly clean, empty save for a sheet of paper in dead center position. He walked to it, knowing before he got to it that the letter would be for him. He slowly turned the paper to face him, and willed his eyes to drop down to it. And true enough, in Cloud’s neat scrawl, were the following words:

_Dear General,_

_I am sorry for the pain I have inflicted on you. Our relationship, although short, has come to an end. It has been an honor to meet you, and to know you. I am utterly undeserving of the privileges and the affection you have bestowed upon me, and I cannot hope to repay you in this lifetime._

_I have destroyed the document you gave me. Whatever that tied the both of us to each other is now gone._

_I pray that if we ever meet again – in another circumstance, in another time, in another life – that you will have the good fortune and wisdom to turn away from this disloyal, selfish wretch. I wish you all the happiness in the world._

_With fondness,_

_Cloud._

Sephiroth crushed the paper with his hand, crumpling the thin parchment in his fist. So this was Cloud’s decision.

What was that strange feeling in his stomach? It was heavy, a leaden weight. That uneasy ache in his chest? His dry eyes felt like they were burning, and his jaw was clenched so tightly he was afraid that they were sealed shut.

Cloud had abandoned his own kingdom in order to run away from him. That was a masterstroke he had never expected. For all of Cloud’s naiveté, he was certainly able to pull that one out of his hat. It is simultaneously the most foolish and clever ruse he has ever come across.

Behind him, he heard soft footsteps. ‘Sephiroth …’ Genesis began.

Sephiroth kept his back facing Genesis, but he lifted his head to listen.

‘They’re all gone,’ Genesis reported. ‘The castle’s been abandoned. They went across the sea to the Western Continent, and we lost their trail. Initial reports are speculating that they most likely headed to Wutai, but we’re still waiting on more information. I’ve held off on issuing any orders for now, and we are waiting on you.’

‘I see,’ Sephiroth said. Then crushed the paper he was still holding into a ball, before letting it fall to the ground. He straightened up, lifted his chin. ‘There is nothing left for us here. I want this castle to be burned to the ground. All the settlements. All the houses. Everything. I want nothing left but ashes.’

He took a deep breath. ‘Round up all the survivors and prepare for transport back to Midgar. I want an orderly redeployment for home. Genesis, I would like you to stay coordinate this operation.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Midgar,’ Sephiroth said. Home. The Tower. Far away from Nibelheim.

Where was Cloud now? He could have been halfway around the world by now, or he could be in Wutai. Sephiroth had wasted enough time and resources to chase after this fruitless dream. It was time to come to his senses, and it was time to go home.

‘I have it all handled here,’ Genesis said neutrally. Then after a small hesitation, he stepped up, closer behind Sephiroth, and laid a hand on his shoulder. There was a quick squeeze, and then his hand was gone. ‘I … am sorry.’

‘There is nothing to be sorry about,’ Sephiroth said brusquely. ‘It’s done.’

But that fire blazed inside him still.

And from the deck of his airship, he watched the castle burn. Plumes of dirty grey smoke rose into the air as the flames licked at everything in sight, and there was a visceral satisfaction that snuck into his soul. The castle would take days to burn. Such a pity he would not be around to watch all of it disintegrate into ash and air.

For him, the facts were stark enough. The man he had married had wanted to leave him to be king. And then when Sephiroth pursued him, he would rather throw away his kingdom and run away rather than return to his side.

Sephiroth laughed. And laughed some more.

He had somehow thought he had cornered his beautiful blond prince. But then he had found a way to escape his grasp anyway.

Sephiroth kept laughing until there was nothing left inside of him.

No anger, no mirth, no joy.

Leaving only a strange, unsettling emptiness inside.

But no regrets whatsoever. He had played the best hand he could, and he had clearly lost. He accepted it, because there was nothing else to do.

Sephiroth didn’t often lose. It was a rare occurrence, but he had to take it at face value. It was evident enough Cloud had beaten him at his own game. He had made a final choice after Sephiroth had offered up everything he had. It was a gamble well-played.

Such a pity that he had lost it all. And how terrible that it made everything inside of him seethe with such agony.

He watched everything burn, but he refused to stay in Nibelheim for a moment longer. He ordered _Meteorfall_ to head for home, and closed that door firmly behind him.

He shut out everything else but work.

On the second week after his return, he started his evening rituals a little earlier, simply because all his work had been completed. Cill only worked on half-days on Saturday, and she apparently assumed it was still true for him as well. It was a mistake that he will see rectified on Monday.

The doorbell rang.

He narrowed his eyes at it, annoyed.

Safely ensconced in his apartment, he was able to concentrate on his work and ignore the way the world seemed to be baying for his blood. His reputation was taking a severe pounding, and the newspapers were brutal. It was so bad that Cill sought his permission to stop sending him the daily papers, and Sephiroth had agreed to it.

The worst part was not the way they editorialized or speculated on his actions, but the way Cloud and Sephiroth’s photos were splashed across the front pages. That gorgeous color shot of them standing together in a library once upon a time under the lurid headline of _Love Story Gone Wrong_ seemed like a mockery of what they had more than anything else. That had been published in a mainstream, respectable paper – shame of them for resorting to such cheap journalism.

And it had been much, much worse in the gossip rags.

Kunsel and Tuesti had suggested that he stay out of the spotlight in order to weather this storm while they continuously spun an entirely different story for the public.

Sephiroth knew that he knew he would have to pay the piper very soon, and he was prepared for it. But it didn’t mean he looked forward to it either.

He opened the door to an absolutely unwelcome sight.

Or perhaps more bizarre than anything. Zack and Angeal, the overgrown beasts they are, were hiding behind the diminutive figure of Mrs. Fair. It was as if they were using Aerith as a human shield. ‘Good evening, General,’ Zack saluted briefly. ‘May we come in?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth said. ‘What do you want?’

Zack looked startled, as if he wasn’t expecting Sephiroth to actually say no. He gestured vaguely, a little confusedly. ‘Um. Nothing. We just wanted to … hang out.’

Aerith and Angeal both groaned at the same time.

‘You want to … _hang_ ,’ Sephiroth said, in his flattest, most contemptuous tone he could muster. ‘No. Go away.’

‘No, wait!’ Zack said frantically. ‘I, uh …. I mean, I left something at your place a couple months ago. I just need to … grab it and I’ll leave.’

Sephiroth slammed the door on them.

At least, he tried to. The door bounced open on the booted foot that had been stuck in the doorway. He looked down at it, then up at the culprit.

Aerith kept her boot in place. ‘Not so fast, my lord,’ she said. ‘Listen, Zack, we tried it your way. Now it’s my turn,’ she said, steel in her usually sweet voice. She swung the door open with one arm, then stepped up in front of Sephiroth, toe to toe with him. She was a whole head shorter than him, but she stared at him defiantly. He absolutely, refused to move backwards.

He merely stared down at her, and she up at him. But those eyes were shining, and beguiling in an off-putting way. As if she was trying to charm him into taking a step back.

‘Aerith, maybe we should go,’ Zack whimpered, sounding scared.

‘Shush, Zack,’ she said.

He blinked first, and she used her other arm to shove him back like she had with the door. To his own shock, he actually stepped back, and she was in his apartment.

What was this woman’s deal? Did he owe her in previous life or something?

She walked past him, and Angeal and Zack took the opportunity to coast in like they belonged there.

He merely stood there, stunned speechless as he watched them.

They crowded themselves at the bar, and made themselves a drink.

Sephiroth ignored them, and settled himself back at the balcony. To his immense annoyance, they followed him there. Aerith took the only seat opposite him, while Angeal and Zack made themselves comfortable on the wide steps leading from the living area to the patio.

And they all drank in an uncomfortable silence.

Zack was foolish enough to break it first. ‘So, uh …. Sephiroth. You OK?’

Sephiroth slowly swiveled his head to stare at Zack. Angeal slung an arm around Zack’s shoulders, half in warning, and half in protection, as if he was afraid Sephiroth might actually kill him then and there.

‘I. Am. Fine,’ Sephiroth bit out.

After that terse declaration, no one else dared to say anything else.

But if Sephiroth hoped that it would deter them, it did not work.

In fact, they redoubled their pointless, annoying efforts when Genesis got back to Midgar.

Two weeks after that initial invasion, his doorbell rang again. This time, he scowled in irritation. He was done for the day, and ready for bed.

He had never been as productive as he has been since he got back to Midgar. He had become a shut-in in his own apartment, and had Cill send up all the work that required his input. He put off all his meetings, because he was afraid that he would savage someone if he actually saw them in person. There was a massive backlog with his work, but it was what he needed.

The nation was in good hands.

He knew that Tuesti had a good handle on all civilian matters.

He knew Genesis had the situation with Midgar sorted.

He knew Angeal and Zack were ensuring that it was business as usual in SOLDIER and the army.

This was the way of the future. Power was always meant to be decentralized, because it was too dangerous left in the hands of one person. Sephiroth had always intended to do so, but never had the opportunity to let go more reins until this had happened.

It was meant to be. Sephiroth accepted it.

He opened the door, but left the chain on this time.

‘What?’

Genesis stood there, with the usual posse of jokers. ‘Open the door and let us in.’

‘Why?’

Genesis twitched. ‘What do you mean, why? Because we want to come in, that’s why.’

‘No. I’m going to bed.’

‘It’s only half ten!’ Genesis protested, outraged.

‘I’m tired.’

‘I’m not asking to have sex with you, you idiotic lump,’ Genesis said. ‘Come on, open the door already,’ Genesis said impatiently.

Sephiroth eyed the four of them. ‘No.’ Then he closed the door. And found that he couldn’t. Genesis’s boot was in the way.

‘See, I told you. He tried this shit with us the last time,’ Aerith complained.

Genesis smacked his fist on the door a couple of times. ‘Come on, Sephiroth. Open up. We’ll leave after a couple of drinks!’

He might not be able to slam the door, but he could certainly choose to walk away. He turned his back on them, and started walking away.

‘I don’t believe this.’ He heard Aerith, irritation in her tone. ‘Stand back, please, Genesis.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Genesis asked, but the shuffling he heard meant that he took a step back.

‘Oh shit, babe, don’t do it!’ Zack said.

Sephiroth turned, having stopped in the foyer. The next thing he heard was the sound of something freezing over, and then a couple of almighty smashes. The door fell open without resistance, and he saw Aerith in the front, staff in hand. Then they traipsed into his apartment, like uninvited, unwanted guests.

Had she … had she frozen the chain then destroyed it?

He stood there, completely dumbfounded for the second time in a matter of weeks. 

‘We could have done this the hard way, or the easy way,’ Aerith said, marching in like an indignant little sprite.

‘You broke the chain,’ Sephiroth pointed out.

‘How else were we supposed to get in, then?’ Aerith said, directing Zack to the kitchen.

He watched as Zack scurried into the kitchen to put a large red crockpot on the stove, while Angeal walked in carrying a basket of what smelled like freshly baked bread. Genesis perched his hip against the edge of the counter, seemingly happy to put some distance between him and Sephiroth.

Despite his own misery, he pulled out of it temporarily at least, by this strange, bizarre tableau in front of him.

And despite everything, he felt a pang of pain as he imagined a certain golden-haired spouse gladly getting stuck in with them. Unlike Sephiroth, no matter how awkward he felt, he was polite about it, and he would gladly entertain these lunatics who busted into their home at half past ten at night.

Aerith walked over and handed him a bowl of soup and bread.

Sephiroth stared at it.

She pushed harder, and more firmly until his hands opened automatically and took them. Then she steered him into a chair at the dining table and suddenly, he was seated with Angeal opposite him, and Zack next to him, nattering away at nothing in particular.

Genesis sat the farthest away from him.

For the lack of anything better to do, Sephiroth dug in. He knew these people won’t let him get up from the table and head to the bedroom. While he knew that they cannot physically stop him, they can certainly make his life harder.

‘Anyways. How are you doing?’ Angeal asked quietly.

Sephiroth let his spoon clatter against the bowl. It was too loud in a suddenly silent room.

‘I am completely fine. You do not have handle me with kid gloves. I will not break. I will not lose my mind.’ His voice was a little too brittle, and too cold.

More silence.

‘You know, it’s all right to feel sad. And to be sad. You’ve lost someone you love. You don’t always have to pretend to be strong,’ Aerith said, in a clear voice.

‘We are here for you, no matter what you want to do or say. Or how you feel,’ Angeal said.

Zack tore morosely at his bread. ‘We’re just worried about you. We don’t mean to be annoying, Sephiroth. We know we are. But you won’t say a word to us, and you won’t even come out of your apartment. What else are we supposed to do?’

There was another long bout of awkward silence after Zack’s unexpected outburst, and everyone seemed to be on tenterhooks. As if they were waiting for Sephiroth to explode.

‘I’m fine,’ Sephiroth said again, but this time, his tone was a little more reasonable. He picked up his spoon and started eating again.

‘I’m sorry,’ Genesis said abruptly.

Sephiroth sighed. ‘What for?’ He continued to drink soup carefully.

Genesis didn’t answer. Instead, he only shrugged his shoulders.

Sephiroth turned away from him, and to Aerith. ‘This is good soup.’

‘I know, isn’t it? Slow cooked beef and barley soup. Nourishing and comforting, just like a hug!’ she said cheerfully, and the mood in the room lifted ever so slightly.

He didn’t have much to say, but listened absently as the four of them bantered about nothing at all. The weather, the new menu at the mess hall. The incessant chatter formed a low level noise in the background. It was rather … comforting, if annoying. When the soup and bread were gone, Zack had somehow raided his bar, and began mixing drinks for everyone.

Someone pushed a drink into his hand. He didn’t usually partake, but tonight seemed like the night to make an exception. He tossed it back.

It was terrible.

Zack needed to keep his day job. He would not make it as a bartender, not even if his patrons had collectively lost their minds and their taste buds.

But then his empty glass was miraculously replaced by a fresh one.

By the end of the night – or more like early morning, all of them were varying degrees of plastered. Somehow, at some point, and he genuinely did not remember when, they had all moved into the living room.

And they kept drinking. And drinking.

It took a lot for Sephiroth to get drunk. During the height of his mako enhancements, it was literally impossible. And apparently years after his final mako shot, his liver still held some of the innate resistance to alcohol.

Unfortunately for him, he did not get drunk that night. There were times where he fervently wished that he could, so that way, he would be spared from witnessing some of the horrifying shenanigans from his friends. And even if he had seen it, they could have been permanently wiped from his memory banks.

Sadly, he did not have the luck.

There was Aerith laughing way too loudly and hysterically, her sweet voice becoming almost shrill and witchy when she lost control like that.

Zack, on the other hand, was much, much worse. He climbed onto the coffee table and started stripping down to his underwear, and he did a terribly unsexy strip tease to a tuneless song practically screamed at him by Angeal, who was doing his best to use his low baritone to belt out a screechy song most likely sung by a soprano. It was a terrible, terrible sight, and the entire time Sephiroth hid his face behind his crystal highball so he didn’t have to witness it in its entire glory.

Aerith had then found a tissue box, and was frantically throwing tissues at Zack in lieu of actual money, shouting encouragement and telling him to work it. Genesis had gotten sick of the show at one point, and had climbed onto the table before pushing Zack off. Zack tumbled onto the ground and crawled into Sephiroth’s lap. Which was annoying enough, but he kept calling him Aerith. He pushed him away once, then twice, then gave up.

Genesis had belted off a song that was completely off-key, with what sounded like jumbled words from the Loveless play. Sephiroth had trouble making out what he was saying at first, but eventually cottoned on, especially when he realized the amount of sips he drank corresponded with the increasing clarity of Genesis’s drunken mumblings. 

Angeal was quietly sobbing. Aerith was in tears, bawling her eyes out, and then she turned to Sephiroth and wailed, ‘It’s so sad, my lord! It’s so sad.’

‘What’s sad is the fact that you both are crying,’ Sephiroth slurred, and next to him Zack had burrowed into his side, crying uselessly as his tears soaked into Sephiroth’s night shirt. Sephiroth pushed his face away with great distaste, before accepting the refill on the whiskey that Angeal sloppily poured into his glass.

‘I miss him,’ Aerith said quietly, and her breath hitched into a sob. Sephiroth had no idea who the fuck she was talking about or if she was talking to him, but assumed it was one of the characters Genesis was channeling on the coffee table.

Sephiroth wiped his face. There was some moisture on his face that he belatedly realized were tears, but whether they were of mirth or something else, he wasn’t sure.

It did stop at some point, mercifully. One by one they dropped off to sleep. Aerith and Zack had claimed his bedroom, while Angeal was snoring on the couch, with Genesis pressed up close to him. Sephiroth pushed off from his position on the ground, and found himself walking a little too stiltedly. He got up, absently patted Angeal on the arm as he walked by. It was definitely time for bed.

He opened the door to the master bedroom, and stared at the way it had been made up rather pristinely. The last time anyone had been in that bed was the night before Cloud had received the news of his brother’s death. How simple their lives had seemed then.

Sephiroth drank, his eyes sweeping the furnished room. Over that familiar trousseau that still sat at the foot of the bed.

With uncertain steps, he walked to it. He ran his fingers over the surface of the wooden box. It felt sturdy under his touch, and he used his fingers to trace the ornate carvings on the sides.

He opened it, and stared into the vast emptiness.

It was more than enough proof that his spouse had felt comfortable enough to put his things away into the dressers, wardrobe. Office desk. Bedside table. He had come to regard this place as his home.

So how was it that he could walk away from his home, and his spouse, so easily?

Sephiroth would never know, he supposed. He walked quietly over to the dresser, and pulled the drawers open. He began to carefully pack away the things that Cloud had left in the room. His clothes from the dresser, his shoes, his stationery, his toiletries. Sephiroth handled each item carefully, and had just stacked the first lot of clothes into the trousseau when Genesis walked in.

‘Sephiroth?’

Sephiroth stopped. ‘Yes?’

Genesis blinked, then he padded over and sank to his knees. He picked up the second lot of clothes, and slowly folded them into a neat pile before handing it to Sephiroth.

They worked together wordlessly, and quietly to put all of Cloud’s things away into the trousseau. Genesis closed the lid of the box, and gave it two neat pats. Then he pulled himself to his feet, and picked up his own glass that he had left on the dresser.

He was on the way out when he turned.

Sephiroth waited.

It was Genesis who broke the silence first. ‘For what it’s worth … I’m sorry. For everything. For … for …’ Genesis trailed off, and Sephiroth wasn’t sure if he couldn’t spit out the words because he was much too inebriated, or that the words were failing him. Either way, Sephiroth didn’t want to hear it.

He understood why Genesis had done it.

He didn’t like it, but he understood.

And perhaps, Genesis had saved him from his spiral into madness. From losing more of himself than he already had.

He sighed. In an equally soft voice, he said, ‘I forgive you, Genesis. Good night.’


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TIME SKIP. 
> 
> In response to all your magnificent comments on the previous chapter, please consider perhaps skipping this chapter and waiting for the next, if so far, Cloud's actions have done nothing but drive your blood pressure sky high. And by high I mean your doctor would just look at it in shock and jump on you to jam ace inhibitors into your mouth. 
> 
> You won't miss that much from this chapter, but it'll definitely save you a heart attack. 
> 
> And I won't be offended, promise. I'm just glad you're along for the ride.

Two years was a short time, and yet in some ways, such a dreadfully long time, almost torturously slow.

When calculated in the amount of days, it seemed ridiculously hectic. There were too little daylight hours to accomplish what they wanted to do, when they were on the run and trying to find a new home, while herding along an enormous group of displaced citizens – all seething at the edges with confusion and barely coiled rage.

When time was measured in the quiet moments of lull, where he actually had the time to sit down and think about it all, it was all too long, unbearably so. His breath would catch in his chest, and there was a deep, irrepressible sadness inside of him that he was afraid would never leave him for as long as he lived. It had become his faithful companion, as loyal as his shadow, accompanying him with every breath he took.

He had been the one to command his people to evacuate the moment they secured Wutai’s promise to shelter his people. He was the one who ordered his citizens to leave behind everything they held dear and escape through the mountain passes to the waiting airships that whisked them away to Wutai. He couldn’t save all of them, but a great many had come along with him, and that had sealed their fate as straggling refugees with no home.

He had been half-afraid that Sephiroth would chase him down to Wutai. But with the folded sheaf of papers under his belt, and the note he left behind, he was reasonably certain that Sephiroth would no longer pursue him.

And yet, he kept a wary eye out.

The piece of paper had been the only thing linking them together. Handing it over meant he had left the decision in Cloud’s hands. And Cloud had made a decision.

A decision he could barely explain to himself two years on. Shame and regret threatened to pull him under, so he turned to more practical matters at hand.

He focused on finding his people a new home. With whatever dwindling resources he had and what was left of the royal treasury, he sent the best people to find the location of their new home. The exploratory missions took a lot longer and took up a lot more resources they had anticipated.

While the Wutaians were gracious to a fault, he knew he could not rely on their handouts forever. His people had started becoming restless, like he had. Squatting in someone else’s territory, no matter how comfortable and how welcomed they were, was never meant to be a permanent arrangement. He was careful to make sure they did not overstay their welcome.

He gave his people a choice. They could stay in Wutai, where he had managed to secure the guarantee of citizenship for those who chose to stay in exchange for a deal that would see the Wutaians the new owners of the ancient materia collection once housed in the Nibelheimian royal treasury, and the purveyors of a loan that would see Nibelheim indebted to them for decades. Wutai had suffered a cripping war for years, and were still in the midst of rebuilding. Young men and women held first priority for citizenship, then young families.

And the other choice was that they could follow him, so they could build a new home together.

Many of the refugees had chosen to stay. He could not blame them. Cloud made the decision to use the royal treasury to pay out reparations to his citizens for their losses. It was a pathetically small amount of money for each individual in the end, but it was perhaps that, and the legacy of the kings who came before him that saved him from being outright murdered.

But the ones who had continued to follow him, he was grateful for. He left the promise of Nibelheim citizenship in the hands of all his citizens – no matter if they followed him or not. If they wished to reunite one day, he would welcome them.

There were pitifully few of them as they settled into Wutai. So few that he was able to sit down with every single family and listen to their unhappiness, their rage. How he had upended their lives with one foolish stroke. There were times where he was genuinely afraid they were simply going to lynch him and be done with it out of their deep resentment. But he took it all.

Each meeting was more difficult than the last, and he grafted each encounter into his heart. As a lesson – to remind him of what was at stake. What he had done. How he had failed all of them out of his own hubris and stubborn-headedness.

The worst one had also been the first one. He met with the Lord Mayor of Nibelheim City and his young daughter. He hadn’t been expecting a tempered response, but the truth was the vitriol shocked even him.

‘ _Sorry_? Sorry? Is that what the fuck you just said to me?’ the man had shouted at him from his perch across the little room he and his daughter had been given in one of the villages in Wutai.

‘I know it doesn’t even begin to describe my—’ Cloud began, but the man moved at the speed of lightning, hauled him up by his lapels and slammed him against the wall. There was a shout from Tifa, and his retainers moved to defend him. But Cloud lifted his hand, pleaded for them to take a step back.

‘What the fuck did you just say to my face? You think your royal sorry is going to cut it?’ the man hollered at him, deep fury reflected in his eyes. ‘Everything has been taken from me, from us!’ He slammed Cloud’s head against the wall again, not hard enough to give him a concussion, but firmly enough for him to start seeing stars in the corner of his eyes. ‘All you had to fucking do was take it up the ass from the emperor, and you couldn’t even do that! You do not have a right to apologize for failing your job!’

Cloud could feel his eyes watering, more from pain than hurt, but he refused to blink. He told himself to take this on the chin, because … this was all he could do. ‘Because of you, we have lost our home. Fuck. You didn’t give us the choice to fight. Or to run. You just made a decision for us. Why couldn’t you have found another way, huh? Anything would have been better … just … not this!’ the man raged. ‘And all you have to say to me is _sorry_? Give me a better reason that that, Your Royal Asshole.’

Cloud looked at the man. ‘I don’t have one,’ he admitted quietly. ‘It … it was a mistake. I can’t excuse my own actions. Sorry is all I can say.’ He bit back his own sob on the edge of his tongue, and steeled his voice. ‘I _will_ rebuild our home, if you give me the chance. If not, I understand. But this is all I have right now.’

The man slammed him against the wall one last time, but he let Cloud’s feet touch the ground. His hands were still on his lapels as if he couldn’t physically relinquish them. Cloud could understand.

If he could kill himself, he would.

‘You know, my daughter and I have been living on that farm since she was born,’ the man said in a casual tone. ‘The house was falling apart and it was fucking cold all the time, but it was home. She was born in there on one snowy night. Colder than Shiva’s tits. Thought my wife was gonna scream down the house the way she was going about it. Nearly crushed all the bones in my hand. And then she sat up, and was in so much pain she actually put her fist through the wall. Made a hole in the wall above the bed.’

‘Flakes of plaster falling everywhere, I tell you. On the bed. On her hair. But she didn’t give a shit. All she wanted to do was to push the damned baby out. But then my little baby was born, and she forgot all about the pain, and man, she was so tired she was practically babbling. My baby was the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my whole goddamned life. And you know what my wife said? You know what she fucking said to me?’ the man asked.

Cloud waited.

‘She said, “It’s too cold in here, babe”. And I went out to get some firewood, the sound of my baby girl’s crying ringing in my ears. And then right then and there, on the spot, I pushed the bed aside and I got my tools out and fixed that hole in the fucking wall with fresh plaster.’

‘And every year, on my baby girl’s birthday, I put a mark on the patch of plaster with her height. But that’s all gone now. Gone. Burned down by the flames that your fucking husband set, because you wouldn’t go back to him. You two fucking assholes.’ The man’s gaze, stark with pain, began dripping with tears.

Cloud couldn’t look at him. But he had to.

He had no place to feel guilt and sorrow and apology. He had to keep his eyes open and dry as he witnessed this man’s agony, and he had to accept this weight without flinching.

So he kept his eyes open, furiously blinking back his own tears, biting down hard on his tongue so his chin wouldn’t tremble. And he let the man hammer him with the grief and pain of his loss, a loss that Cloud had brought to his life, because he hadn’t had the courage to do better, be better. He had let the circumstances control his actions, and now all he could do was stand firm and accept the fallout.

He kept his hands on the man’s shoulders, and the man’s enormous hands were fisted in his lapels, fury twisted in every knuckle, so close to doing bodily harm to Cloud. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered over and over again, his stricken tone on the verge of breaking.

Then he dropped Cloud, who crashed onto the floor, his legs bent under him. The crushing weight of guilt on his neck and back was relentless, and he struggled to breathe.

‘My wife’s gone a long time now,’ the mayor said. ‘All I have left is my daughter. You fucking thank your lucky stars that she lived, Your Highness. If something had happened to her …’ He left the threat hanging in the air. ‘I would never have forgiven you.’

Cloud pressed his knuckles to his burning eyes. The mayor couched down in front of him, and Cloud braced himself for another blow.

But it never came. ‘Fuck your apologies, Your Highness,’ he said, voice gruff and hoarse. ‘I don’t want to hear it anymore. Show us you mean it.’

‘I will,’ Cloud promised quietly.

And he did. He didn’t know if he was succeeding or not, but he took heart in the fact that the mayor was one of the handful of people that chose to follow him instead of staying in Wutai.

He was the first, but he was certainly not the last that Cloud had met with. He took it all.

Shock. Grief. Anger. Fury. He accepted it all, and he remembered every single one of them.

It was the least of his penance.

He found that he was largely a man of action, always preferring to be working or on the move rather than sit down to think quietly. Because the latter proved to be dangerous, as it meant that the voices in his head would return, chastising him for his incredible foolishness. The regret was terrible even at the best of times, and sometimes he wondered if it was the one thing that would crush everything inside of him until there was nothing left.

It was much easier to travel around, especially on his own, in search for their new home, with the bike engine roaring in his ears. It was simpler to sit with a family listening to their frustration and helping to problem-solve rather than to sit alone on his own. It was more uncomplicated to take on hunting jobs to earn money on the side to replenish the empty coffers of the now-defunct royal treasury.

With their grand escape, he had become a king in name only. And he was all right with that. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but time and hindsight had showed him perhaps that he was not the best man for the job.

He simply got on with it.

So they began the process of searching for viable sites in order to build their new home. They had briefly considered returning to Nibelheim, but now it was a pile of rubble, and the land had been annexed. It made no sense to return. And their search encompassed all the lands of Gaia, from the harsh winterlands of the Northern Continent, to the abandoned eerie islands where the ancient Cetra used to live.

Which is how nearly a year later after their frantic hejira, he stumbled upon a curious piece of land. He had ridden close to the city of Midgar itself without broaching the lines the marked the territory, for no reason other than because he felt like it.

And there was the sign that marked this a strange parcel of soil as reserved land under the authority of the Land Rights Council, independent of the empire’s control or ownership. It was a patch of dirt surrounded by a flimsy metal fence, and with grass only as far as the eye could see.

Cloud circled the perimeter of the reserve several times before he was sure it was completely empty. He rode the bike past the No Entry sign and parked his bike at what he considered the center of the land. He kneeled down in the dirt, and dug into the soil with his bare hands. The dirt felt moist, dark. Rich. The grass was green, crisp. Healthy.

In the silence of the evening, he heard the sounds of a nearby brook. There must be a source of water nearby. He stood up again, and breathed in the sweet night air into his lungs. Then he looked to the distance at the glittering lights of Midgar.

Somewhere in that tallest tower, there was a man in there.

What was he doing now? Was he still a workaholic? Did he still have fury churning in his veins? Had he brought someone home and fucked them senseless, like he used to do to Cloud, in the warmth and light of their apartment?

Cloud closed his eyes, and out of habit, he reached into his shirt, groping until he found that little plastic pocket that lay against his bare chest, threaded through by a worn, brown string. He squeezed it, and waited for his heart to calm and for his mind to pull out of their dreaded thoughts that would serve only to torture him.

He stood on that empty land, and sensed a tremendous amount of promise and potential. He breathed deeply.

It felt right.

He had that strange piece of land investigated thoroughly for its climate, soil conditions, any existing infrastructure, and its ownership. He found out that it was legally owned by a land rights council run out of Midgar, and that parcel of land was part of a historical settlement from the empire hundreds of years ago as a gesture to recognize native land rights.

And there was some sense of irony at the end of the day, when the most appropriate site for their needs turned out to be a purchasable piece of land that was close to Midgar. But it was land that Shinra technically did not own. It was affiliated with Midgar because of its proximity, but at the end of the day where legal technicalities mattered, the area was an independent settlement. And that land did not fall under the auspices of the Crown.

Supposedly, the council was run and administered on behalf of the last of the Cetra people on Gaia. He didn’t know who they were, but they seemed amenable to negotiations as long as the right deal was on the table.

His people were concerned however with its proximity to Midgar, and that had been one of the objections presented to him. Cloud speared his council with a stern glance. ‘It’s been two years, and I have no doubts whatsoever that they know exactly where we are, and what we are up to. If he wanted to come after us, he would have done so already. This land is suitable for our needs, and it makes sense to rebuild here. We can’t keep mooching off Wutai forever and racking up a debt we can’t possibly repay.’

The council regarded him in silence. It was clear that the air was pregnant with hope. The prospect of a home was sweetly enticing for a people who had none. ‘Vincent, go ahead an open negotiations with the land rights council. If we can agree on a price, I’m happy to lock this in.’

Terrius pointed to the pile of requisition lists in front of him. ‘If we want to expedite this deal, we need to renegotiate a bigger loan with Wutai.’

‘I will speak to Lady Kisaragi,’ Vincent said. ‘We are already in the process of selling the majority of our assets in Corel.’ The kingdom held a sizeable, very profitable share in Corel’s ongoing mining operations, but there was no point holding onto it when there was no kingdom nor economy to sustain. Building a home was now imperative. The debts were mounting, and so far their loan to Wutai was fast approaching astronomical.

But in the end, that leap of faith turned out to be absolutely worth it.

The Cetra people turned out to be quite receptive, and sold the piece of land they wanted at a reasonable price with them being acknowledged as the traditional owners of the land. Turned out that they were sympathizers of Nibelheim, and were willing and eager to help them get started.

Rebuilding a kingdom was impossible with their limited resources.

But rebuilding a town was marginally more reasonable and plausible.

And that was when the help started trickling in. Small, discreet donations from Nibelheim’s old allies. A generous loan repayment plan from their friends in Wutai. Contributions of raw material at low prices from Nibelheim’s old neighbors.

He counted himself rather fortunate that sympathy firmly lay on his side. For all the shit he had done, it was Sephiroth who ended up bearing the brunt of the blame – the news that traveled in the wake of Nibelheim’s fall painted the general as a foolishly lovelorn, jilted husband who not only burned down his husband’s country but very possibly had killed his spouse as well.

With Cloud having disappeared off the face of Gaia, rumors were abound that he had been murdered by his husband. It was all rather dramatic – and it added to the luster of Sephiroth’s already mysterious and fearsome reputation. Not only was he a regicidal, genocidal maniac, he had now added viricide to his long list of sins.

Of course, everyone who was in the know already knew that Cloud had survived, but the regular citizen would not. He imagined the news circulating in Midgar. They already had a streak of sensationalist in them, but this would merely unleash the vultures. He knew Sephiroth had a contentious relationship with the press. He had never been interested in spinning stories, only hunkering down and getting work done.

When the rumors arrived in Wutai, Cloud had locked himself in his room for two days.

Had he done this to Sephiroth?

Had _he_?

And the truth then came easy to him, easier than anything else so far.

He _did_.

He _had._

He had single-handedly driven Sephiroth’s reputation in the ground and put a stake through it. It was incredibly ironic, because he was possibly one of the few who had learned to see past his reputation in the one month that they had been together.

But he couldn’t dwell forever. So he kept moving.

But for a very long time, he had to fight the fog of darkness that shrouded him in its sticky embrace. Every single day. Some days were better than the others. Some days it simply crippled him and left him a mess with emotion bursting out of every pore and it was all he could do to keep it together and not break, damnit, because if he broke it was just another way he failed his people.

That had been half a year ago, and today, he stood in the first building that they had erected on the land they had purchased. The council liked to call it the headquarters, but Cloud simply called it the farmhouse.

Because that was really what it was. It was a simple building, two-storeys tall. Fresh wood on the outside, that heady smell of paint still hovering in the air, with a sturdy roof over their heads. It was simple, but it represented a new beginning, and the culmination of their efforts. Everyone who could – including the able-bodied council members, and himself – had pitched in to build this farmhouse.

But the truth was, he was the one who poured the concrete, and had laid down every single brick. He had hauled the wood and grouted the tiles. He knew nothing about building anything, but had learned. The hard work was punishing, and painful at times.

Pain had a funny way of tempering the soul. Like steel forged in the heart of fire, he had to be broken completely in order to be molded into something entirely different altogether – Stronger. Surer. Fit for purpose.

He stood on the wooden patio, a mug of tea in his calloused hands, staring at the landscape in front of him. It overlooked hills and valleys of green, but he wasn’t seeing it. His mind was already visualizing the plans that had been drawn up. Endless rows of houses. A school. A town center. Vast acres of farmland, fruitful and abundant, ready to be harvested. It was all very far away in the future, but he could hope, and work towards actualizing this vision.

This was Kalm. The name that the Cetra had bestowed upon it had been truly fitting.

In the quiet of the early morning, he stretched silently. He liked being alone. It gave him some peace when he wasn’t being asked to make a thousand decisions, and to shoulder the burden of responsibility that sat heavy on his shoulders. There might no longer be a crown on his head, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t some sort of de facto leader to his people that he had displaced by virtue of his own sins.

He walked back into the house to put his empty mug into the sink when he saw one of the bedroom doors open, and from beyond the shadows of the still quiet morning, a little figure on exceedingly wobbly legs toddled out.

The little boy blinked sluggishly, a little vampire in the face of the sunlight’s onslaught. He spotted Cloud and made a beeline for him. Cloud slipped down onto his knee, and held out his hands. ‘Come on then, buddy. Come here.’

The toddler took a step, then another, and tumbled down and face planted on the wooden floor. There was a beat of silence as he processed what happened, then he opened his mouth, and positively _bawled_.

Cloud laughed, and picked the little boy up for a cuddle, feeling that little body curl into him, clinging so innocently and sweetly that Cloud gave him a couple of pats against his butt. ‘It’s all right, Al,’ Cloud whispered and waited until the sobs receded. He loved that sweet milky smell from the little boy’s mouth that signaled that he was more baby than toddler still.

‘Geh-geh!’ the little boy said, bringing his hand up to Cloud’s cheek, and it felt sticky with tears and saliva.

Cloud stared at those gorgeous blue eyes, and mouthed a single word slowly. ‘Un. Cle. Not Geh.’

‘Geh! Geh!’ The boy bounced excitedly in his lap, so proud of having mastered the simple word. ‘Geh!’

‘Uncle. Cloud.’ Cloud said again.

‘Geh! Cud!’ Aldrich Regulus Strife II was growing nicely, but he wasn’t going to be winning any speech prizes soon.

‘Close enough,’ Cloud said, pressing a wet kiss on the kid’s cheek. ‘Off you go. Play quietly with your toys while your mama catches some sleep. I heard you keeping her up half the night, you little rascal.’

‘Geh!’ Then he squirmed out of Cloud’s grip and was off like a shot, having completed his morning greeting.

‘Bye, Al,’ Cloud said, then he looked up at Tifa, who walked out of the bedroom, slightly disheveled, and looking exhausted. ‘Hey.’

‘Morning,’ she said.

‘Heard him keeping you up last night,’ Cloud said, nodding at the little boy.

She sighed. ‘I would kill for a good night’s sleep.’

‘If you want, I can take over while you have a nap,’ Cloud offered.

Tifa sighed again. ‘It’s all right. I’m kind of used to it by now,’ she said, her loving gaze fixated by her beautiful little boy. He spotted her, and began toddling over, a sweet gummy smile, his eyes lit with love.

‘Mama!’

‘That’s right, darling!’ Tifa smiled, and got down on both knees, and opened up her arms. ‘Good morning, baby!’

‘Mama!’ He plowed straight into her chest, and she gathered him up, cuddled him until he was giggling.

Cloud watched the both of them, a fond smile on his face.

It was not always easy to look at Aldrich and remember that he was not his son, but as time passed, it became less challenging.

It was easy to see that serious and shy expression that reminded him so much of his deceased brother, the light sprinkling of freckles on his tiny nose, even though Aldrich had detested them while growing up. He saw the shape of Tifa’s eyes, and the blueness of his brother’s gaze. With any luck, Aldrich would grow up to be like his father – steadfast, responsible, and calm.

Not like his damned fool of an uncle who couldn’t get his shit together to hold onto his marriage, his kingdom, and his heart.

Shortly upon their arrival in Wutai, the push for a political marriage had begun. At first, he had been nudged toward the young Kisaragi heir, in a bid to unite two kingdoms and strengthen their alliance. Then later, they began pushing their original agenda of him marrying his own sister-in-law, in order to strengthen his own claim to the throne and provide a sense of stability and continuity for his people in which they currently had none.

He said no to it all.

Part of it was because he was utterly, terribly sick of all these political maneuverings and machinations. He himself had been a victim of a political marriage and had been pressed into it by virtue of his own birthright. He was deeply loath to put himself or anyone else in that situation. He wanted to find another way, and no matter what proposals he was presented with, he said no. Because he realized that this time, he truly had the agency he needed to make a decision when it came to his own life. 

To do things his own way. A different way, like he had promised the mayor.

And the other part of him … well, it was simple. His heart belonged somewhere else, and the idea of marrying again for convenience and politics made his stomach churn.

When she had heard this news, Tifa had approached him for a private meeting, and she began it by bristling at him about not wanting to marry her.

Cloud looked at her in the eyes. ‘Do you really want me, Tifa? If you say yes, I will give it the genuine consideration it deserves. Just tell me the truth.’

She stared at him with a lovely big reddish-brown eyes. And then she pressed her knuckles against her mouth and sobbed. He realized then he wasn’t the only one still grieving. Wasn’t the only one still flailing in the face of an unchangeable destiny.

Cloud walked up to her, and held her in his arms while she wept for a lost love, gone forever. He didn’t know how to help her. But she knew.

In the end, he had agreed to help her for one reason, and one reason alone. She wanted a child so badly that she would accept one from a man who shared blood with her deceased husband. It wasn’t Cloud that she wanted, that much was clear, but the idea of continuity, and of the legacy that Aldrich had not managed to leave behind.

That was what she needed. And this was one way he could help her. So he did.

And quite unintentionally, it turned out to be a boon. When the child was born, all those desperate political machinations dissipated into thin air. There was an heir, and a beacon of hope for those displaced people. Here was the legitimate heir to their King Aldrich, not the supreme fuckup who destroyed their kingdom. They put their hopes and dreams onto this innocent, hapless child.

This child who was born out of necessity was vastly more than that. He had become Tifa’s entire world, regardless of his actual biological origins.

And for that, Cloud found that it was very easy to accept that little Aldrich belonged to his mother, and to the people. Aldrich did not belong to him. Cloud loved the child, but he was merely a donor of biological material, and he had no interest in playing father when he could barely get his own life together.

His people had demanded that he step down in favor of his nephew, and he had accepted it with grace. He agreed to assume the regency, while Al was king over a non-existent kingdom. That was what Al represented to his people – he would one day, restore the kingdom to greatness, and that was the belief that his people clung to, and how they could forgive Cloud, whom they now regarded as a temporary placeholder.

He accepted it with grace and shame. This was part of his penance too. Along with the sacrifices he made.

Perhaps Sephiroth was right after all. Being a king was never really part of his destiny.

Cloud pushed a hand through his hair, and batted away at his dark thoughts. He had learned to put strategies in place to stop himself from sinking into that deep abyss again. The last time he had given into his pain, he had been useless for nearly three months. Time that could have been better spent rebuilding his world.

‘I’m going for a run,’ Cloud said, and pulled off his light jacket.

He pushed himself to do his usual long lap across the lone dirt trail until he reached the airship that was parked there. He passed by the freshly turned soil, and on the other side, the seeds that had been planted just a few months ago. The foundations of the new houses they were raising. The construction of essential infrastructure that the town would need. The mounds of raw material that Cloud had sold everything of value and important to him in order to obtain. But there was one last thing he could sell.

By then his thin shirt was heavily drenched with sweat, and there was a clarity in his mind that helped push away the heavy weight of self-recrimination.

It wasn’t as if he had forgotten the man. As if it was that easy. And sometimes in the dead quiet of the night, it was simple to recall those powerful arms curled around him, a wisp of silver hair in his sights, the smell of leather and clean soap and masculine musk. All of that, gone. Because Cloud had walked away.

If he had hoped the passage of time would ease away that ache in his heart, it hadn’t done a damned thing. And as much as he wished for it, his heart did not change. It remained steadfast, despite what he wished for.

He supposed that was what love was. Once it had claws around your heart, you could never forget. You could never really walk away.

Sephiroth was the second person he had ever loved. Both times had been unrequited on his part, bless his shitty run of luck. But he had been younger when he had fallen for Tifa, and even then he had done so knowing she and Aldrich were firmly head over heels for each other too.

Sephiroth had been more of a free agent. He had a weighty past and came with his own baggage – a full set, really, considering what he had done before they met. Such a cold, single-minded man, with such capacity for cruelty and bringing out the worse in him – and yet, there was a part of Cloud that yearned for him.

It was insane and stupid, but his feelings had less to do with his brain and more with his heart. And dick, he supposed. The sexual chemistry between them was desperately explosive, an inferno that consumed them from within, obliterating all common sense until they did the most horrendous things to each other.

Even two years on, he was filled with shame, and want. Shame over what he had done, kept abreast of the desire to right things, to be with the man he loved despite said man having burned down his entire home. Broken, shattered, and yet still wanting the very thing that poisoned him in the first place.

Cloud knew he was no innocent either. That he accepted, and embraced whole-heartedly.

No one else knew this save for himself, but he had forgiven Sephiroth for what he had done.

He had to, in order to forgive himself. How else could he live?

But it didn’t mean any of this came easy.

As he slowed to a stop, he felt it come. The weight of that old familiar pain drove him to his hands and knees, and he fell onto the dirt, the heavy hand of grief pressing him to the ground, refusing to let up until he had allowed everything that had built up inside of him to shatter. He sobbed incoherently and quietly, letting it all flood out of him.

He had lost everything. _Everything_.

His kingdom. His brother. The loyalty and the respect of his people. The man he had loved beyond all comprehension and logic. His own peace of mind.

And he deserved all of it.

When the tears dried up, he got to his feet. Wiped away all remnants of his weaknesses as well as he could. He began the slow walk back to the farmhouse. Hot sweat poured off him, burning away the last of his dark fears, anxieties, and remorse.

And when he was a little calmer, he began his daily prayers. There was no god in particular, only a plea that he sent out to the universe, to pray for calm, for patience, and for peace.

And for the one thing he had hoped for the most – that the man he loved was safe, and happy.

He passed by one of the building sites, where some people were already working on the construction of new houses. They gave him a wary but perfunctory nod, as if reluctantly acknowledging his presence. ‘Morning,’ they called out.

‘Good morning,’ Cloud said, then walked up to the man who was currently drilling holes into slabs of wood. ‘I’ve got a couple hours to kill before I leave. Anything I can do?’

This was the same man, the first citizen that he visited at the beginning of his grand apology tour. The mayor glanced up at him. He grunted, then pointed to a pile of wood. ‘That needs sanding down,’ he said. ‘Do what you can. Every little bit helps.’

Cloud nodded. He got comfortable, and began to push sandpaper against the coarse grain of the wood. There was something mind-numbingly comforting in that physical work, and before long his arm and shoulder was aching, but he ignored the protests and kept going.

‘How long you’re going to be away this time?’ the mayor asked.

‘A week, give or take,’ Cloud answered, his hand sliding the sandpaper back and forth.

‘Right,’ the mayor grunted. ‘Mmm.’

They worked quietly and efficiently until the sun was firmly up in the sky, and the crew broke for lunch. There was usually a spread of simple food back at the farmhouse, so the mayor tossed down his power tools and stood.

One of the men nodded towards him. ‘Coming, my lord?’

Cloud looked up. ‘Just want to finish this off,’ he said, before looking down again.

‘Right,’ the mayor said. ‘Let’s go, boys.’

The crew began their long trudge to the farmhouse, but the mayor lingered for a little longer. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite spit it out. So Cloud stopped what he was doing, and waited.

‘Anyways. Safe travels,’ the mayor said, almost grudgingly, reluctantly, awkwardly.

‘Thanks, Mayor Wallace. I’ll see you soon.’

The man pushed his sunglasses onto his nose, and turned towards the direction of the farmhouse, and light glinted off his visors. ‘You … can call me Barrett.’ His voice was gruff and uncertain.

Cloud blinked, and there was a strange silence between them. ‘Um. Right. Thanks, Barrett.’

‘Right,’ the mayor cleared his throat. ‘See ya.’ Then he marched away in his massive combat boots, a slightly embarrassed hunch in his back.

Cloud felt a small flush of satisfaction run through his veins. Little by little, he was clawing back their grudging respect, and it felt like he had taken another step forward.

It made no difference to the circumstances, but … it meant everything to him.

He took a deep breath, and kept working.

When he got back, he snuck in the back door, and bypassed the relaxed noises of chatter and banter in the kitchens. Perhaps one day he would be able to join them and they would not stiffen up around him in awkwardness.

But he didn’t want to impose his presence on them. He was still a work in progress. So he left them and headed up for a shower and to pack.

‘Do you really have to go?’ Tifa asked, leaning against the doorway, with Al asleep in her arms. She patted his bottom absently.

Cloud stopped packing his bag. ‘It’ll be all right, Tifa. I’ll be fine.’

‘It’s kind of far, you know. If you want, I can ask dad or Vincent to go into Midgar to do it for you.’

‘Nah, Midgar’s not going to fetch the price we want for it. Got to go straight to the man who knows what it’s worth.’

Tifa’s hesitation was obvious on her face. ‘Cloud, you don’t have to. We’ll wait for the next advance. You don’t have to sell it. It’s a sentimental thing, isn’t it?’

Cloud looked up at her. ‘It doesn’t mean anything to me, Tifa,’ he said. ‘Anyways, what’s the difference when I’ve already sold everything else, including the crown jewels,’ he said dryly. It was the truth.

He took his wedding ring out of his pocket, and it glinted in his palm. It would fetch him a pretty penny, and he would put it to good use to help raise the batch of houses on the south side. His ring was simply a thing that he held onto, and it didn’t matter much to him. He had something else, something closer to his heart.

He finished packing, tossed his bags over his shoulder. He hesitated a little looking at the Fusion Sword, but he was going much farther this time, and he didn’t want to be completely defenseless. He pulled on his jacket, and strapped the sword to his back.

‘I’m heading out. Take care,’ he said, giving her a cursory side-hug, and then leaned in gently to press a kiss to the sweaty little boy’s temple. ‘See you soon, Al,’ he whispered.

He waved briefly as he got on his motorbike, and then gunned the engine.

He was looking forward to being on the road again. He loved being with his family, but the solitude also soothed his soul. If he wasn’t staring at the people that he had fucked over his own actions, he didn’t have to hear the recriminations echoing in his own head.

There was no other direction he could proceed, so he simply kept moving onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... But if you did read this chapter, let's go, fam! 
> 
> Text IMMAKILLCLOUD if you still want to kill Cloud. 
> 
> Text MAYBENOT if you don't have the overwhelming desire to murder him after this chapter, but it's not completely out of the question still. 
> 
> Text SHOSAD if all you are is sad for the both of them. 
> 
> As always, if you're still here, many thanks. I love you all, you're the best readers ever.


	21. Chapter 21

He was fine. For the most part.

But sometimes, even two years on, that single, pivotal moment when he had stood in front of the desk, holding that note in his hand and discovering that he had been left behind was so painful it could still take his breath away.

They had only been together a month, and yet the consequences of their union had stretched far and wide, like oily, insidious black tentacles that slithered out and tainted both the past and the future with useless what-ifs.

What they called the Nibeheim incident had been a mere blip in the constantly evolving history of the empire.

At that time, the press had savaged him and his reputation. The headlines had been merciless, and the director of the PR office, Kunsel, had been driven to a raging madness. He had worked day and night to spin stories for the press. He had to constantly refute the rumors of a certain’s prince’s death.

Sephiroth had smiled humorlessly when he had heard that particular one. Incredibly ironic. He was quite sure that Cloud would have rather died than come back to him.

While they had called the military outcome a decisive victory of sorts, it was clear to all what he had really lost, in the grand scheme of things. Or rather, _who_. While Cloud was the one who lost a kingdom, Sephiroth was the one who gained the reputation of someone who could not hold onto a consort, and a tributary one at that.

One headline in particular had been especially nasty. It had been in one of the tabloids, and it was lurid at best, disrespectful at its worst. It was along the lines of the Silver Demon having been defeated by the hole between his consort’s thighs. It was crude and unwelcome, and he had utterly despised what they had reduced Cloud down to, as well as himself.

If only it had been that simple. No one knew what his blond prince had meant to him. No one.

Equally worse was when they painted him as the pathetic, jilted husband. It hurt, simply because it was true. He had taken a beating, both in the polls and in his personal reputation. And privately, he could not deny the humiliation.

That had not been the only price extracted from him. In the wake of the Nibelheim incident, he received official missives from almost all of Shinra’s tributary nations, protesting his treatment of Nibelheim. That was all fine, but the moment the rumors surfaced of the king’s survival, they descended like a pack of jackals.

Faced with what perceived as Sephiroth’s personal weakness, and subsequently the empire’s by extension, many of the tributary nations demanded an immediate severance to their tributary relationship.

The precedent was set. If he let one go, he had to let all of them go. It was either that, or have a fight on his hands. And one thing he was utterly tired of was war, when the last one had taken far too much out of him. There really wasn’t much of a choice.

The empire’s dominion over the world had come to an end. It had been a long process, but it took a lot of growling, threatening and mediation to hammer out new arrangements of friendly diplomacy that would satisfy all parties.

In a way, it didn’t matter to him. He didn’t care if they had apples from Banora or weapons from Wutai. The only ones that truly hurt was the cut from the mining operations in Corel and logging and mineral supplies from the Northern Continent. But just because they could no longer get it for free did not mean they were not in a position to purchase it outright. Shinra’s economy was strong and almost offensively wealthy from benefitting for hundreds of years off the backs of other nations, which was why they could afford to let the tributary nations go in the first place.

Besides, if Sephiroth wanted to be able to transition power at the end of his own career, Midgar’s economy needed to be self-sustaining. Tributes should not, and would not make a big difference.

Especially in the light of how the last tribute to Shinra went so well.

But Sephiroth weathered it all, like he had done multiple times in the past. He had done so during the anti-war riots during the height of the Shinra-Wutai conflict, and as the chief instigator of a military coup, and even when he had progressively shut down all the mako reactors. He knew he would survive this.

Within a year or so of Kunsel’s tireless PR efforts, his approval ratings slowly regained itself, but at an expense, of course. His popularity had diminished significantly, which made sense.

He had been commonly known as a man with a cold, distant reputation, which had only taken a turn for the better when he had gotten married. Seeing him with a smiling, handsome blue-eyed blond who constantly emanated warmth for the cameras had the effect of humanizing Sephiroth. 

And when then blond had disappeared, so did the goodwill.

It also helped to appease the people that he entered a power-sharing agreement with Reeve Tuesti, the prime minister. He was a good-looking man, an utter picture of competence, and went over smooth like melted butter to the people of Midgar, who in reality cared very little about the politics so long as they could maintain their cushy lives. And the ones who did care overly much, he could weather their criticism.

The process of decentralization had begun for a while now, but with this stroke he had merely sped up the process of moving towards a constitutional monarchy. His role became much more ceremonial, and while it was aggravating at first, he hoped that it would pay off in dividends much later. His work now sometimes bordered on utterly meaningless.

His workload was, sadly, still the same, if not becoming more taxing and time-consuming. Now he had to front more charity events and board meetings. And he had to meet with the government almost constantly now that he was no longer the only one making most of the decisions. It kept his already overloaded schedule teetering on the brink of overflowing.

He didn’t quite mind. It simply meant he had less time to think about how strangely empty his life had become.

But time tempered everything. And with more carefully managed appearances, speeches, attendances at public events, more hand-shaking, his reputation began to recover.

And thus he carried on. Occasionally there was a sighting of a certain blond prince here and there around Gaia, and a strong certainty that he was in Wutai, but Sephiroth refused to waste resources on a man who did not want to come home. Their destiny had ended, and he accepted his loss with grace. He rarely lost at anything, so it had come as a shock and a blow to his ego. But he was human after all, and loss was such a painfully human sensation.

When he had killed Rufus, the aftermath had been terrible. He had loved the man from afar for the longest time, with little to no hopes of reciprocation. He hadn’t needed it, and as long as he could serve the man in the capacity of advisor and general, he was happy. And the regret that lingered with him was etched in his soul for a long time, gradually fading as the months and years ticked by.

But losing Cloud was a new torment beyond his most vivid imagination. The pain had been excruciating. Cloud had been a spouse, one that he had fucked into the bed every night, one that he had touched and sparred and spent time with. One that he had deeply come to love. He had been real, much more so than Rufus had ever been to him.

He was flesh and blood, and sometimes at night his fevered dreams would conjure up the smoke figure of Cloud to him, only to lure him into a false happiness and dash his hopes to the ground when he awoke. Sometimes he swore he could still smell that fragrance of sweet magnolia, and sometimes he thought he could see that same silky golden hair in the corner of his eye.

He often didn’t feel like eating or sleeping. Behind his desk and the endless stacks of work, he could take refuge and feel safe. He even stopped sparring for about half a year, feeling little motivation to pick up his sword. His sparring partners felt … inadequate, even though they were highly skilled.

He knew his friends and associates were concerned about him, and they had absolutely no subtlety whatsoever in helping him, although to varying degrees of success.

Angeal often tried to coax him out for morning jogs or swims, and Zack dropped into his office, bearing a fresh vat of soup or whatever stew that Aerith had made. Cil attempted to pack his schedule so tightly to the point where he asked her wryly, ‘Are you going to leave me any time in my schedule to sleep at all?’

Kunsel had often tried to accept stupid invitations on his behalf, but he had no interest in those sort of social events. Tuesti had dropped by a few times when they didn’t have a meeting scheduled, tried to invite Sephiroth to his home for a meal or two. The man had recently married the head of the General Affairs Division and was apparently in blissful newlywed love. Sephiroth stayed far, far away from that.

And even Scarlett was annoyingly flirtatious, seeming to think that this was the perfect opportunity to worm her way into his bed. And speaking of harmless, aggressive flirts …

The strangest one of all was Genesis, who for the last couple of days, was fidgety and flirtatious. At first it was no different from his usual, but soon realized that there was something significantly different when he had been reading the newspapers one morning and Genesis had draped his body onto his lap.

Sephiroth had stared, then picked the man up by his fancy collar and threw him off the couch. But that didn’t stop him. He made himself quite comfortable in Sephiroth’s apartment the following evening, and began to make eyes at Sephiroth, and vague suggestions about helping him relieve his ‘pent-up aggression’. 

He had a mildly annoying day at the office today. His morning had kicked off with the headlines of the local papers running special features about the events of two and the half years ago. Then he spent the rest of the day wrangling trade deals, and got so frustrated with it that he had to delegate most of it to Zack, who was now his second-in-charge with all matters to do with the new statuses of their allied nations. The insolent pup seemed so friendly it was difficult to dislike him.

But after the talk of trade deals was over, they continued to hammer at him with proposals of marriage alliances, and Sephiroth struck them all down with a curt ‘no’.

Why the hell would he want to get married again, considering how terribly his last one had ended?

And then he had come home to Genesis pottering about his home, cooking up a storm while in a vicious, crabby mood. But at least he got a warm meal out of it.

‘You need to stop diddling those blonds on the side,’ Genesis was saying, fluttering his eyelashes. ‘I can give you a helping hand.’

‘Quite sure that I stopped that a year ago,’ Sephiroth said dryly. For about a month and a half, he had a steady parade of men and women out of his apartment, attractive partners who understood his need for discretion and his request for only one night. And then the ever-obtuse Zack Fair had pointed out that they all had one thing in common – blond hair, blue eyes – and Sephiroth had stopped it immediately.

He genuinely hadn’t realized. To think that he was the obtuse one, not Zack.

He missed it, but not that much. While there was relief in the ability to release tension through no-strings sex, it left him profoundly unsatisfied. Not to mention the associated embarrassment when he realized that while pounding into his various partners, there was only one body that he had imagined in their place.

And it turned out celibacy suited him just fine.

‘I thought you had a lover,’ Sephiroth said calmly, continuing to eat from his plate at the dining table.

Genesis pouted and laid his arms over the couch. He made a show of examining his fingernails. ‘Yes, I do. What about him?’

‘How does he feel about you propositioning another man?’

Genesis’s gaze flitted into the distance, as if he was distracted by something far away. ‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.’

‘Hmm. I thought you were happy with him,’ Sephiroth said. Genesis’s words ‘hung like a horse’ came back to haunt him, but he refused to allow it to emerge from his own mouth.

‘I am,’ Genesis said, then corrected himself self-consciously. ‘I was, I mean.’ 

‘Then why are you trying to get into my bed?’ Sephiroth said. ‘In case it wasn’t clear, the answer is no, by the way. I’m not remotely attracted to you.’

‘That’s not what you said the last time,’ Genesis pouted, battered his eyelashes at Sephiroth.

‘The last time was more than fifteen years ago,’ Sephiroth corrected. They had been young, arrogant, newly minted SOLDIERs First Class, and in a fit of pique and stupidity, had fucked each other in their dormitory bunk. That had been the first, and the last time, not because Genesis wasn’t attractive, but because he was more like a dangerous shark. No sane man would allow his balls and dick anywhere near those sharp teeth.

No, Genesis’s lover could keep him. Sephiroth was not at all interested.

‘More like eighteen years …’ Genesis sighed. ‘Aren’t you curious to see how well we could fit together after all this time? We have a lot more experience under our belt now, and we could be good together. I’m so much better at giving pleasure now. Wouldn’t you like to find out?’

Sephiroth couldn’t stand this shit any longer. And for so many years, he had simply pretended he did not know the identity of this mysterious lover. It had simply been easier. But now he was tired of the pretense. ‘If you don’t stop this, I’m going to call Angeal and get him to deal with you.’

Instead of blustering with anger like he was wont to do, Genesis lowered his head, but not before Sephiroth saw the tell-tale sparkle of tears in his glistening eyes.

Completely out of his comfort zone, Sephiroth only kept eating quietly. Waited for Genesis to say something, anything.

‘That fucking idiot wouldn’t know what to do even if you told him,’ Genesis said, his chin wobbling. What the actual fuck. He had never seen Genesis cry, save for the time he had sobbed over the movie adaptation of Loveless. 

Sephiroth really did not know what to say.

‘He asked me to marry him,’ Genesis blurted out.

Now Sephiroth truly knew that he was out of his depth, and this was beyond his current repertoire of social skills. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘You said no, I presume?’

Genesis sighed, then reached over to gulp a large mouthful of wine from a glass that had been filled it to the brim. ‘I said no, obviously. _Obviously_. Do I look like the marrying kind to you? Do I?’ he demanded.

Sephiroth supposed that he wanted an answer to his question when he put it that way. But he really had nothing. Nothing whatsoever.

‘You know it. I know it,’ Genesis said, and he seemed genuinely pissed off. ‘He knows it. We all fucking know it. But do you know what the hell he said? _Do you even know_?’ 

If he knew, they would not be having this conversation, but Sephiroth did not think it would be wise to mention it.

‘He said he would wait for me,’ Genesis wailed dramatically, and Sephiroth’s first instinct was to laugh. But he didn’t, of course. That would be rude. ‘The son of a bitch said that, and ruined what he had between us. Great sex, great companionship. And honestly, that tongue of his …’ Genesis trailed off, as if lost in a haze.

Sephiroth sighed, appetite suddenly gone, and he pushed the plate away from him. ‘I do not understand why you’re upset. You’re the one who said no to him. If anything, Angeal and I should be having this conversation. Except that I don’t want to,’ he said pointedly. ‘This is between you and him, and it’s none of my business.’ He was hoping that Genesis would take the hint.

Genesis clamped his mouth shut, then turned his back. He had never known his oldest friend to be so sensitive. He didn’t know what was going on, but was able to put two and two together. Angeal was clearly very serious about Genesis, and judging by his responses, Genesis wasn’t far behind either, despite all his spirited denials. He was probably afraid. Marriage was a big commitment after all.

But Sephiroth knew Angeal. He was gentle, and quietly persistent. He would win over Genesis in no time at all.

And who was he to dispense any love advice anyway? His marriage had imploded and became an actual battlefield. He wished his best friends well, and felt pleased at the prospect of them being married to each other one day.

He cleaned up after himself, then got ready for bed. It was already half-past eleven. He eyed Genesis, who was now stretched out on his couch. He didn’t care either way, but … if Genesis had a place to go home to, and a pair of willing arms waiting for him, then he should not squander that opportunity.

‘Are you sleeping on my couch tonight? Not that you aren’t welcome, but if Angeal is waiting up for you …’

‘Fuck him,’ Genesis said vehemently. ‘That guy crossed so many boundaries, I can’t even anymore. I’m not in the mood for that shit today.’

‘Spar at 0500 then?’

Genesis groaned. ‘Can we do it at seven? Your couch is freaking uncomfortable and unless you are willing to share your bed with me, I highly doubt I’m going to get a good night’s sleep.’ He wiggled his eyebrows. ‘What do you think? Would you like me to warm you up tonight?’

‘Seven it is, then,’ Sephiroth said. And just before he turned out the lights, as was his usual bedtime routine, he glanced up across the living room, where the door was always shut.

Genesis must have seen it, because he said the next sentence, apropos of nothing, ‘There’s someone I did want to introduce you to. Palmer’s junior undersecretary in the aeronautics department. Nice, neat-looking. Blond and built. Interested?’

‘No.’ He was never interested.

‘It’s been two years,’ Genesis said.

‘And?’ Sephiroth lifted a brow. Some days the mere mention of that incident still annoyed him. But he was mostly over it now. ‘Good night, Genesis.’

‘Good night, Sephiroth.’

The next morning, Genesis was still snoring loudly on his couch. Sephiroth went for his morning run, and came back, only to find Genesis still out. So he dialed Angeal’s PHS, and asked to meet on the 49th floor. Angeal came with the Buster Sword strapped to his back, his angular face a picture of seriousness and concentration, concern etched in the bags under his eyes. Do not ask, he told himself. It was none of this business.

But he was inevitably sucked in by Genesis’s drama, like every single day of his life he had the misfortune to deal with Genesis. ‘Uh, Genesis spend the night at your place?’ Angeal eventually asked gruffly, sounding almost embarrassed.

Sephiroth averted his gaze. ‘Yes.’ And left it at that. He lifted Masamune, and motioned for Angeal to come forward.

Angeal’s fighting style was unique. He was fluid despite his size and build, similar to Sephiroth, whose feet were nimble as they were graceful. But Angeal’s raw power was impressive, and sometimes Sephiroth even thought that Angeal’s strength outstripped even his. He was tanky, and could take damage and hits like no one else could, where Sephiroth relied more on evasion and dodging, using his skills to deflect hits rather than take them. Fighting him was direct and straightforward, and he never resorted to fancy tricks or tossed things up with magic like Genesis was prone to do. It made fighting him a little more predictable, but he knew it was a guaranteed workout.

Sephiroth used both hands to deflect Angeal’s flurry of heavy blows, each sending pulses of shockwaves to his wrists and radiating up his arms. He skipped along the broad metal surface of the Sister Ray in Junon Harbor, which reminded him that his tour of the continent was about to begin tomorrow. The very idea of it only irritated him, which he channeled into a series of deflections forcing Angeal on his back foot.

When they finished their spars, they sat on the edge of the canon, enjoying their legs hanging off the ledge, the cool sea breeze that blew through their hair. Sephiroth closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His muscles felt sore and loose and limber, and he was cooling down from a good sweat. Nothing could ruin this moment.

‘So I uh … asked Genesis to marry me.’

Sephiroth opened his eyes. He was wrong. There was something that could ruin the moment, and Angeal had just said it. ‘Congratulations,’ he said neutrally, suddenly wondering why he was stuck between his two best friends and their pre-marital woes.

‘He said no,’ Angeal said. ‘But I’m guessing you knew already.’

He didn’t want to know, Sephiroth thought. ‘Yes,’ he said shortly, hoping to discourage Angeal from pouring his heart out, which he sounded like he was two seconds away from doing.

Angeal rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Well, I was hoping to propose again, but this time, maybe change it up a bit.’

You poor fool, Sephiroth thought. Why hadn’t Genesis eaten him up alive and spat him out already?

‘I thought, maybe Genesis would rethink it if I did it right. It was just a spur of a moment thing, my proposal. And it was nowhere near good enough. But I think, if I did it a little better. And if it was a little more concrete. Like if he had the ring.’

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. He had never known Angeal to ramble on so uselessly.

‘I uh … commissioned a ring months ago. A ruby, fused with fire materia and set into a band of yellow gold,’ Angeal was saying.

A ring, Sephiroth thought. He thought a ring would make Genesis say yes. The poor, sad fool.

‘But the craftsman’s based in Mideel. I was hoping that since you’re making your way there anyway as part of your royal tour, you would be able to pick it up for me,’ Angeal continued.

Too late now, Sephiroth realized with some horror, that he had been drawn into his friends’ pre-marital issues with little to no hope of escape. ‘You want me to pick up the ring for you,’ he said, stating it more like a fact than a question in a vaguely stunned manner.

‘Yeah, won’t you? It’s all paid for already. You’re in Mideel anyway, and you have a day of downtime. I checked. The jeweler’s close to your hotel too. Just send someone to get it if you don’t want to do it yourself. Besides, when Genesis does say yes, you’re our best man, have you forgotten?’

‘I’m the best man …?’ Sephiroth echoed. Was this penance for his sins?

Angeal turned slightly defensive. ‘Listen, if you’re that uncomfortable about it, it’s fine, I’ll make my way down myself …’

‘No,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I’ll do it.’ After all, it had been Angeal who had picked up the pieces in the aftermath of the utterly useless war with Nibelheim. He had been the one who answered the 4am call in the morning for a spar, the one who brought over a six-pack of crappy Junon beer in the quiet evenings. Even though Sephiroth didn’t usually indulge, it had been rather pleasant, sipping at the bitter foam in the quiet solitude and companionship that Angeal provided. Sephiroth never talked about it, and Angeal didn’t push. Genesis was the one who did.

And even Genesis was irritatingly dramatic, there was no denying that he would happily spar with Sephiroth for hours on the weekends, when work was sparser and the days seemed to stretch on for longer. And he had also been the one who helped him seal away the main bedroom in his apartment.

And he knew, above all, what Genesis had done for him two years ago, when he had helped Cloud run away. The sense of betrayal had been immense, but once the rage cooled, he understood why Genesis had done it. Time had a way of helping sort out the tangle of emotions and pain from logic and reason. Sephiroth had been gripped in a madness, an insanity that he could not break out of on his own. So Cloud had done it for him. And Genesis had helped.

That was why he would do it. Because when the ache became an actual physical pain in his chest, they had been there for him. This was the least he could do for them.

Angeal softened visibly. ‘Thank you. It’s … appreciated. More than you know.’

His friends were getting married. And he was the groomsman.

Ah shit.

Out of habit he glanced down at his finger, that thin band of metal now having disappeared. He had consigned that ring to the deepest depths of his desk drawer, right next to two box seat tickets to the premiere of the Loveless play and it had not seen light again for more than two years now. His friends might have been on that path, but for himself, he was done with marriages. And spouses. And a life of celibacy wasn’t so bad as long as it meant it didn’t come with the heart ache as well.

After his shower, he got dressed for work. On the way up to his office, he dropped by the 10th floor, where Aerith had taken over a small, boutique floristry. She had mysteriously come into some money a while ago, and she had turned out to be quite the astute businesswoman. Every Wednesday morning, he joined Aerith at her shop for a cup of tea. He couldn’t assist her in many ways without incurring a conflict of interest as a man in his position, so he did his best to just show up in order to demonstrate his support.

He liked her, and she was possibly the most calming presence in his life since two years ago. She didn’t push, and she didn’t prod, but somehow she almost always instinctively knew what to say. And their awkward friendliness had evolved into a quiet friendship. It was nice to bask in that sweet, natural joy that radiated from her when his own life seemed so silent and dour.

‘Hey!’ She waved at him, and gestured for him to take a seat.

‘Hello. How’s the little demon?’

‘Are you talking about the man I married or his spawn that I’m currently carrying in my belly?’ Aerith asked with such a straight face that it surprised a laugh out of him. She poured a cup of flowery tea for him, and he brought it to his lips. ‘Zack’s all packed for tomorrow,’ Aerith said cheerfully. ‘He’s really excited.’

‘Why?’ Sephiroth asked.

‘He’s never been to Mideel before. But he’s just excited to enter Chocobo Country,’ Aerith said. ‘And I would have loved to go with him, but it’s so busy here at the shop, and I didn’t want to leave my staff short-handed.’

‘Pity,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Have you been to Mideel?’

‘Yes, on a pilgrimage, about ten years ago,’ Aerith said. ‘I took a boat to Mideel, and then to the Temple. With it being so close to an open source of the Lifestream, it’s a very spiritual place,’ Aerith said thoughtfully. ‘Magical, even. They say miracles happen there.’

‘Miracles, huh?’ Sounded like horse shit to him. ‘I’ll bring you home a souvenir,’ he promised.

‘Yeah?’ Her eyes shone like green diamonds. As stunning as she was, her beauty only reminded him of a blond that had entered his life like a whirlwind, and left a sea of chaos behind him as he departed. ‘Pick out something pretty, then.’ She stood, and smiled at him. ‘Safe travels, my lord.’

‘Thank you.’

He spent the last of his remaining time in the Tower finishing up whatever paperwork that he could get his hands on. And there were endless stacks of it, as usual. When would it ever end, he wondered idly. Probably not until he was dead, he thought. Pity to the man who was next in line for his position, if it still existed by the time the process of decentralization ended.

And when Fair finally sauntered into his office the next day, he knew it was time. He sighed, and scrawled his signature across the last of the reports. ‘General,’ he said.

‘My lord,’ Zack said, that irritatingly irrepressible grin on his face. ‘You ready for an _awesome_ trip around the Eastern Continent?’

Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, and closed the folder. ‘Are you going to be that cheerful throughout the entire trip?’

‘Of course!’ Zack said. ‘Why on Gaia would I be sad? This is a trip of a lifetime!’ His smile turned comically sad. ‘Although I have to say, I wish Aerith was coming with us. But she’s best to stay here, I think. Her shop keeps her so busy, and travelling is too rough for her right now, and the bubby in her belly.’

‘I don’t think “bubby” is an actual word,’ Sephiroth said.

‘That being said, we discussed this last night, and we thought about asking you to be godfather.’

Sephiroth paused in the act of capping his pen. ‘What?’ his voice was flat and disinterested, colored with some disbelief.

‘We were going to ask you to be godfather to our kid,’ Zack said. ‘Is that OK?’

In what universe would that be OK? It was never OK. He was already someone’s groomsman, and now they wanted him to be a godfather? He didn’t ask in the first place, and he certainly didn’t consent to it. He was the general of Shinra Empire, he was no one’s groomsman! Or godfather!

Zack seemed to take his strangled silence for assent. ‘Aww, Aerith’s going to be so happy when I tell her!’ Zack’s face lit up, and he turned to his PHS and started typing frantically before Sephiroth could even stop him. ‘Thanks, Sephiroth! No one’s going to dare fuck with my kid, not once they find out who his godfather is!’

There was nothing else he could say, and he capped the pen with a loud, bad-tempered click. 

‘Anyways, Meteorfall is fueled and ready. I’ve done all the safety inspections already, we’re just waiting on you,’ Zack said.

Sephiroth put down his work, and sighed. There was no time like the present. And the sooner he got it over with, the faster he could return to his desk in the Tower. ‘Let’s go.’

The tour was as bad as he feared it would be. It was shallow, it was banal, and it was utterly pointless. He made a mental note to strangle Kunsel when he got back to the Tower. Their visit began with a drop-in into a tiny town, slightly south of Midgar and apparently, despite its proximity to a metropolis, held a strange, rustic charm that bordered on boring and parochial. He shook hands, waved hello, recited the speech that they slid under his nose. He drew the line at kissing babies.

Then they headed to Chocobo Country, a massive, glorified farm where endless acres was dedicated to free-range chocobos made for breeding and racing. The air was thick with the stench of birds, and he was given mind-numbingly tedious technicalities about their operations. He half-listened as his mind sifted through the work he had stashed in his briefcase back on the airship, and he was mildly distracted by Zack’s seemingly inappropriate responses to the chocobos running wild and free around him. The grown man was so happy and giddy that he couldn’t stop running his mouth about how beautiful they were, and when he was offered the chance to ride one of their top racers, he had practically foamed at the mouth and orgasmed in his pants.

Sephiroth watched on with distracted bemusement. At least when people were distracted by Zack’s buoyant joy they weren’t fawning over him in that irritatingly obsequious ways. Unfortunately, they were invited to put up at the farm for a night, and he had to put up with Zack’s insanity for the entire two days.

Fort Condor was easy – mostly military inspections, and there Sephiroth knew what to do. He gave a speech, watched the military parade, and inspected his men. Listened intently as they explained their drills, and their current projects with weapons testing. They put up for a couple of nights at Fort Condor, and Sephiroth found that he enjoyed testing the newly built training grounds rather personally in the mornings. His mind was bent on revenge for the idiotic cheer that Zack had subjected him to in Chocobo Country, and he smashed Zack into the ground, forcing him to the take the knee more than once in order to prevent the sharp edge of Masamune cutting into actual flesh.

‘You’re a monster,’ Zack said, a manic grin on his face as he swerved, spun, only for his sword to crash into Masamune mid-swing. With a quick flick of the wrist Zack drove his sword forward, coming close enough to Sephiroth that he had to take a step back, swing his head slightly to stop Zack from slicing off some of his hair. Sephiroth smiled coolly, and pressed in close enough that he could land a boot against Zack’s chest and send him flying into the wall.

A monster. If only. Wouldn’t life be simpler then? Freed of all these conflicting, messy, human emotions.

By the time they arrived in Mideel, he was done with the tour. He just wanted to get back to the Tower. Being back at the Tower meant he could be home in his apartment, and comfortable behind his work desk. It also meant that Kunsel was within arm’s reach and he fantasized about quartering the man for setting up such a rampantly tedious public relations tour with no apparent or precise goal in sight. The tour was done for the sake of doing one and it was what Sephiroth hated the most, because it was such an egregious waste of his time.

Kunsel had had the balls to suggest that if this tour was successful, they would be following up with one in the Northern Continent. Not only was he vehemently against that, he made up his mind to send Angeal and Genesis instead, and he would gift-wrap it for them and call it their all-expenses paid honeymoon trip into a winter wasteland.

Once the requisite hand-shaking and diplomatic frivolities were done, he had some free time, finally. They made him sit through a ten-course dinner with the mayor of Mideel that had taken excruciatingly long and all he wanted to do was get back into the Royal Mideel Resort, where he had a suite and a desk full of fresh reports he was itching to get to. But he knew once he got in there, he would be shut-in until their tour was due to leave in a day.

As annoying as the task was, he didn’t want to forget his promise to Angeal. He had Zack scout out the jeweler’s shop, and was half-tempted to send Zack in his stead, but changed his mind. If he was at the jeweler’s, he could probably get three things done at once – pick up the ring, get Aerith the souvenir he promised her, and his new, incoming godchild a present for being born. That would simply be a satisfying way to end his evening, so he could adjourn to his suite and get some real work done.

His security team insisted on following him for this particular errand, and while it was irritating it was simply a part of his life now. Zack headed the team, and he companionably walked with Sephiroth, pointing out the various architecture and the natural sites where mako fountains spouted from the ground. The air was thick and sweet with the cloying heaviness of natural, unprocessed mako, and it gave him the beginnings of a headache.

Zack pointed out the shop from a distance, and Sephiroth looked up at it idly.

But instead of looking at the sign, his gaze was drawn to a figure coming out of the shop, cloaked in black. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking that gait, that unique way he held his posture. That large weapon strapped on his back. That sharp chin lifted, betraying the flash of blue eyes, as blue as the sky. And most tellingly, under that hood as it rode up, that glint of gold that had haunted his dreams for so long.

Sephiroth’s body moved before his mind could stop it, and he took off at a dead run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I usually post once a week, but the last chapter was kind of a downer (but then so is this one?) but this chapter is a companion piece to the previous. Best digested together, I suppose. 
> 
> That, and I've been stuck in bed nursing a cold and a little high on cold meds so I'm guessing my pain is your gain?? 
> 
> We'll be back to the regular schedule after this chapter. Sorry for the cliffhanger.


	22. Chapter 22

He had taken two steps out of the jeweler’s when he saw a blur of silver flying at him. He didn’t even know what it was, or who it was – but instinct seized his body up and sent his legs pumping to get away. Too bad he barely turned the corner to his parked bike, the only thing that could whisk him to safety, before a hand gripped the back of his clothes, slammed him into the wall so hard that he saw stars.

He was pinned, entire body lifted into the air, legs struggling fruitlessly, fingers digging into the grimy, coarse surface for purchase. ‘Let go of me!’ he bellowed, panic saturating his voice. Who was this – why was he suddenly being assaulted – what did they want?

His feet blessedly touched the ground, and the hand at his back relaxed its grip enough for him to snap his head around in fear and anger, only to lock onto an equally startled gaze of deep jade green.

Cloud froze.

‘Cloud.’ That deep, buttery voice, dark and seductive – it took him right back to two years ago. His mind involuntarily flashed back to the moment when Sephiroth’s eyes had closed, his hand still within Cloud’s grip, and Cloud’s tears were like a steady, salty torrent dripping into the bedsheets. And that tributary agreement that he now held, that Sephiroth had voluntarily given up … and yet despite all that, he had chosen to walk away.

Humiliation and regret flushed through his body, and the tears threatened to emerge. He never thought he would see Sephiroth in such close proximity again; had given up the idea of it ever happening again in this lifetime. He was dismayed to note that his own hands were trembling, and with a quick wrench of his body he escaped Sephiroth’s loose grip.

But Sephiroth’s hand reached out, too easily really, and spread his fingers and palm against Cloud’s chest, keeping him anchored against the wall, preventing him from moving away. But this time it was a lot gentler than the first contact. Cloud realized that the hood of his cloak had fallen backward, and out of habit he yanked it back over his head. Didn’t his brain realize that it was too late? That he had already been recognized?

Cloud refused to look, but his eyes did not listen. They roved over Sephiroth’s face like hungry little monsters. Having been deprived of their favorite sight for so long, they did all they could do right now to drink in that cold, otherworldly beauty. It seemed to be the same for Sephiroth – his gaze was so intense and frankly appraising that it made Cloud flinch in shame.

Sephiroth raised a gloved finger to stroke his cheek, and Cloud squeezed his eyes shut. That familiar smell of leather, that gentle caress, that fond affection in his eyes – it was all too much. Too much, and too unexpected. All he could hear was his own harsh breathing and his chest heaving in a frantic effort to draw breath in in order to fuel his now staggered brain.

But he wasn’t the only one, he knew.

‘Please,’ Cloud breathed out. Please _what_? Let him go? Give him a hug? Fuck him senseless? Pretend that they hadn’t seen each other? He didn’t know what he himself wanted. All of it, probably.

He saw a myriad of unfathomable expressions cross the lake of Sephiroth’s placid face, and he could not catch even a single one. But what Sephiroth said next startled him.

‘Don’t,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Please don’t run. We need to talk.’

There was nothing to talk about. Whatever they once had between them was over; their destinies ended with the day he abandoned Nibelheim Castle. Oh, but how tempting was it? Sephiroth lived in his fevered dreams for two years now, and to see him in the flesh, to be so close Cloud could touch him … what a horrible temptation it was.

Sephiroth finally let go of him, and took a step back. Cloud immediately breathed a little more easily. And yet, their chests were still heaving, probably from the unexpected stress of seeing each other again. His heart was pumping manically in an attempt to send more blood to his brain.

Cloud turned his head when someone called his name. He met Zack’s shocked eyes. ‘It’s you. It’s really you.’ Zack looked hesitantly between Cloud and Sephiroth, unwilling to interfere even though his very expression screamed caution. He looked at Sephiroth, as if he would explode, and then to Cloud, as if afraid he would run.

‘Zack,’ Cloud acknowledged quietly. ‘It’s … so good to see you too.’

Then a terribly awkward silence descended. No one knew what to say.

Sephiroth broke the silence first.

‘General Fair, if you would escort him to my hotel suite, it would be appreciated,’ Sephiroth said, his voice clipped. Cloud had forgotten how curt Sephiroth could be, and how it could come across as coldness. Then Sephiroth walked ahead of them, without a backward glance.

But Cloud knew him enough to know that their reunion had rattled him. He couldn’t blame him. His own hands were shaking like a leaf in the wind. He turned to Zack, and spontaneously reached out for a hug that was reciprocated easily.

‘General Fair?’ Cloud said lightly despite the tremors in his voice. ‘I’m guessing you got a promotion?’

‘I did,’ Zack smiled. ‘A lot has happened the last few years.’

‘I know,’ Cloud murmured.

Zack rubbed a hand on the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, between the both of you. I’m frankly stunned to see you here. When Sephiroth took off running, I thought he was going to kill someone. Heck, I was only half worried, because if anyone can defend himself it’s definitely him. But when I saw who he grabbed, I was just ... Anyway. Um. I hope you’ve been good, Cloud. Any chance of you coming with me to Sephiroth’s suite willingly?’

A streak of panic flitted into his heart. If he went to Sephiroth’s room, what were his chances of exiting ever again? Would Sephiroth drag his ass back to Midgar and then lock him up in the Tower? He’d spent two years on the run, but Sephiroth had made no moves to chase him down. Had he changed his mind?

But then, he didn’t really have a choice here. He couldn’t outrun or outfight Zack, and if he tried to run now, he had no doubt Sephiroth would simply just turn right around and make a grab for him. He swallowed audibly. His motorbike was sitting in the alley, just a few steps away. How good were his chances of escape?

Not great.

So he nodded once, and allowed Zack to lead the way.

He should have known better than to push his luck this way. He had known clearly that Sephiroth was doing his continental tour and it included the stop in Mideel. He himself had been in town because of this jeweler, who was known to be discreet and generous with his prices. And in his hubris he had thought to himself, if he was just careful, there was no chance that Sephiroth would know he was there. He had memorized Sephiroth’s official schedule, and was careful to avoid all the public events that Sephiroth was due to visit or officiate. And he’d make sure to double-check that the jeweler was not on Sephiroth’s itinerary. Why would it be, anyway?

And he had allowed himself only one glimpse, and from a distance, when Sephiroth had toured one of the famous mako spouts in the city.

And frankly, he had wanted just a single glance at the silver-haired general. Just one more time.

Satisfied with his own discretion, he made quite certain that Sephiroth had finished his schedule for the day and was heading back to the hotel when Cloud had moved on to his own task – the very reason why he had been in Mideel in the first place.

That was before he was practically choke-slammed into the side of the wall by a very startled, very shocked Sephiroth.

He felt like a man walking to his own execution. Every step was plodding, and the casually curious questions from Zack bounced harmlessly off him, and his replies were made on auto-pilot. The journey seemed longer than necessary, and even as he pulled his hood over his hair he ducked his head down, as was his habit the past few years.

He had no escape route, no idea what to do next. And by the time he entered the suite, the door shut behind him like a terrible death knell.

Cloud stood there dumbly in front of the closed door, wondering what next. His heart had calmed a little, but the anxiety still ran in his veins, and his gut clenched with fear. He refused to go to the man who stood opposite him, watching him with those unnervingly penetrating green eyes.

He lifted his chin enough to meet that gaze head-on.

And he felt himself being sucked into that vortex of Sephiroth’s intense magnetism once again. This was the man he loved, who stood in front of him, in the flesh. And those old feelings, those shameful feelings that he thought that he had socked away within the deep corners of his heart, surfaced. Swamping him, drowning him, warring against the years of being told that he should hate this man, because he had destroyed everything he had ever loved.

It was too much. It was simply too much. He tore his gaze away and buckled under the overwhelming pressure like a cheap sheet of metal under a hydraulic weight. There was simply no other way to describe it – his emotions crumbled around him like a poorly constructed wall. Those unbidden tears trickled freely, tinged with joy and sorrow at seeing this beloved man, the one that he had loved and abandoned within the same breath.

He didn’t bawl like a baby like he wanted to – his tears were shameful enough, they were self-indulgent enough for a man who did not have the luxury to be bogged down by his emotions. For two years, he had been forcing himself to oversee the practicalities of rebuilding while trying to survive. He had to succeed, or die trying, because there was no other choice when he had sacrificed his marriage and a kingdom in order to fulfill his duties.

Very slowly, Sephiroth stepped forward, approaching him like a lion would stalk its prey. When he was standing close enough to feel Sephiroth’s warm breath on his cheek, he lifted a hand to Cloud’s cheek, the gloved thumb stroking away the tears. Again, that familiar gesture of affection startled Cloud, but not enough for him to lift his chin to meet him in the eye. He couldn’t.

Then Sephiroth bent closer, brushing his cool lips against Cloud’s wet, salty cheek, just a quick graze. He parted, mere inches from Cloud, then gently tilted his chin upwards so their eyes could meet.

His own gaze was blurred by the tears, stinging even as they soaked in that beautiful face. Sephiroth was a little older now, a little sharper in the jaw, his eyes a little more wary. But that hair still looked like a silver waterfall, veiling them from the outside world. He bent a little closer, planting small kisses on the drying tracks of his tears. Then he trailed down, pressed their lips together lightly.

Cloud’s lips parted, their eyes locked together. And Sephiroth’s mouth descended on his again, but this time it was different. It was brutal, it was punishing, and most of all, it tasted like sadness. Cloud felt the heat of Sephiroth’s tongue sear his mouth, in bittersweet joy of reunion. And still, that gloved hand held his cheek so tenderly.

He knew they shouldn’t be doing this. Whatever they had had been severed two years ago, and it was simply unwise to revisit it. And yet, his mouth didn’t seem to care. He thirsted and hungered for whatever Sephiroth was willing to give him, and the kiss, as hot as it was a little angry and messy, felt right, just like the way their bodies slotted together, with Sephiroth’s other hand on his lower back, pushing him closer, and Cloud’s arms automatically locked around those broad shoulders so he could stand on his tiptoes and arch into the kiss even further.

His long unused cock stirred to life, and the rush of sticky memories of heated skin rubbing against each other as they slaked their lust for each other overrode whatever remaining logic or reason still held by his brain. He pressed deeper, pulling a groan out of himself.

The sound of his own pleasure jolted him out of his self-indulgent lust. He pulled away, struggled to string two thoughts together. ‘We shouldn’t be doing this. I can’t-we can’t …’ Cloud wished he could just wipe the frustration and the anxiety away. ‘I’m all dusty and dirty from being on the road. I just need to …’ He took another step back, then another. ‘Bathroom,’ he said hastily, not caring if Sephiroth knew what he was trying to say.

He zipped off towards the direction of the bathroom, and slammed the door behind him, breathing hard.

Think, he told himself. Think. Process this carefully before you make another mistake.

His legs began walking to the shower, and he turned it on at full blast. He listened to the sounds of the water pounding against the shower tiles, and his heart began to calm.

This had been what he had wanted a long time ago. It was still what he wanted, but what could happen should he choose to pursue it?

There was none, no good outcome that he could see.

And yet he wanted it, more than anything he had wanted for a very long time now.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

He needed to buy some time for himself.

He let everything he carried clatter to the ground, and then shed the clothes his wore. Folded them neatly and into a pile on the covered toilet seat.

He stepped in under the shower. He let the cold water rain down on him, wash away all his weaknesses and irrationality. He pushed a hand through his wet hair, and pressed his palms against his eyes.

They needed to take a step back. Ignore that burning need to get hands on each other.

He heard the door open, then the sound of booted footsteps padding quietly across the shining marble floor. Looked up only to see the bulk of Sephiroth looming over him.

He reached out to caress the wet strands of Cloud’s hair. They stared at each other for a while, but it was less intentional, more the fact that they could barely tear their gazes away. There was something swirling in those green eyes. Relief perhaps. Confusion. Hunger. Fear.

‘You’re getting wet,’ Cloud said quietly. The front of Sephiroth’s coat and boots was entirely damp.

‘I don’t give a shit,’ Sephiroth whispered. ‘You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. Right now, I’m wondering if you’re even real.’

Cloud bit his lip at the unexpected tears that welled up in his eyes. He blinked them back. ‘You’ll know if fuck me.’

Sephiroth stepped up, his green gaze burning into Cloud’s. Then he turned the knob, and shut the stream of water.

They slithered wetly onto the bed after dancing their way out of the shower, Sephiroth marking desperate kisses down his collarbone, each nip stinging and territorial. That mouth drifted downward, his wet tongue laving hot trails down his overheating skin. When it circled his nipple and gave it a hard little suck, he couldn’t help but jump, his nerves starting to tingle in anticipation. He watched as Sephiroth crawled off him, undressed himself.

Cloud had always loved watching Sephiroth undress. He was an attractive, muscular man, his body well-defined, with his broad upper body tapering into a narrow waist before widening into powerful thighs and those absurdly long legs. And that shaft that lay between his legs was a graceful length even when flaccid, which it definitely wasn’t right now. That body should have been naked every day, everywhere. But even when he covered it up he was beautiful, his tall and slim stature making whatever he wore rather aesthetically pleasing.

When he was completely naked and half-hard, he walked into the direction of the bathroom and returned with a small vial of clear liquid in his hand. Cloud watched as Sephiroth dropped down on him, knees on either side of his hips.

It felt strange, unfamiliar to be that naked and exposed again to the man he had been running from for the last two years. And yet his body knew better than him apparently, eagerly spreading his thighs to allow for easy entry of Sephiroth’s fingers. And when the first one circled the rim of his hole, teasing and tickling before pressing inside, he could only gasp quietly. It felt invasive, uncomfortable, and he had to keep from squirming.

Sephiroth pressed a second finger in, and Cloud had to keep from jumping off the bed. The stretch and burn was both familiar and not, and the contrast jarred him. He used to do it for himself all the time – every day, right before the time when he anticipated Sephiroth was most likely to pound him into the mattress. He would stretch himself with one finger, then two, then three, with generous amounts of lube. He would gain a steady, quiet pleasure with the stretch, his mind imagining the moment that his wet, tight hole would be breached by Sephiroth’s hard cock. He would move his fingers in and out, loving the way his own fingers would slide in and out of that slickness.

But right in the here and now, Sephiroth’s longer fingers were tender, even gentle as they scissored him apart. Cloud’s breath hitched, and he tried to tether his mind to this moment. His cock twitched in the tight grip of Sephiroth’s other hand, stroking gently but rather insistently. But Sephiroth kept his fingers going, his gaze on Cloud’s parted mouth.

When the third finger slid in, he closed his eyes and tightened his stomach muscles, almost curling into himself. But Sephiroth’s free hand stayed his thigh and kept him open, so he had no choice but to give into the sensations. He had loved this pleasure once, but now … it felt so foreign to him. He moaned long and loud, ending in a whimper when those fingers started curling, nudging his prostate.

He felt slick and wet down there, and when Sephiroth retracted his fingers, he nearly gasped at the feeling of emptiness inside of him. He looked up at those green eyes, an unspoken plea in his eyes. Sephiroth leaned down, pressed their lips together. He clamped his hands on Cloud’s thighs, pushed a pillow under his hips, and angled him for entry.

Cloud didn’t know how to describe it, only that he lost his mind the moment Sephiroth slid into him. That feeling sent a frisson of pleasure into him along with a good dollop of pain, and that very strange feeling of wellbeing that fluttered inside him and calmed the anxiety in his chest and made him want to hold on tighter.

He braced himself for more pain, knowing that Sephiroth had the sadistic habit of going without giving him time to adjust. But he was shocked when Sephiroth stilled inside of him, his taut stomach muscles holding them both. Cloud forced his own body to relax, his muscles to stop clenching shut. And then he opened up, nudging Sephiroth in further.

Gods above, he felt so full, and he loved this feeling. He pulled his knees up until he was nearly bent in two. ‘Fuck me hard,’ he whispered, and saw Sephiroth’s green pupils darken with lust. He pulled out halfway, then slammed in so hard that Cloud would be flung across the bed if not for Sephiroth’s hands still holding him in place.

The cry that tore from his throat melded into the next, because all he could feel was Sephiroth pounding away at him, ruthlessly and brutally, so hard that he could feel Sephiroth’s balls slapping against his ass. He loved this, he really did. How on earth could he have lived without it for two years? He thought frantically. He felt that mindless building of pressure in the pit of his belly, but even his orgasm took him by surprise. It was premature, it was rushed, and it was certainly unexpected.

His heart was still roaring in his ears and his blood was gushing around his body, and he felt light-headed. He refocused on the sight before him. Sephiroth was still pounding away, his expression calm, and yet there was an undeniable pleasure around his eyes. Cloud looked down at himself. He had made such a mess.

And yet Sephiroth was still going, having paused for a second to flip him onto his stomach and hauled his hips up, ass in the air, hole loose from accommodating Sephiroth’s girth. And he felt unbearably filthy, and yet he loved it. The change of angle had Sephiroth slapping up against his prostate, and his oversensitive nerves were now screaming in response to the onslaught. Cloud stiffened slightly, knowing what this meant. But it was too late to brace himself, because the shocks of pleasure were now coming hard and constantly at him.

He gasped mindlessly, his breath hitching as his lungs fought to carry in more air. He braced his arms against the mattress to support his own weight and the impact of Sephiroth fucking him from behind, but it was all too much, too fast. His arms gave way, his strength failing. All he could feel was the softness of the bedlinens pressed up against his cheek, his hands curled around the fabric for support.

His cock was hard again – when had that happened? And even worse, he felt like he was on the very edge of coming again. How the fuck was that even possible? He thought to himself wildly. And then Sephiroth angled himself slightly to the left, and this time he knew he was as good as gone. That thick cock slipped in and out of him, slapping his prostate every two or three strokes, and his nerves were shocked senseless. He drooled and screamed his pleasure into the sheets, a heedless and mindless puppet, too buoyed by his own pleasure to be able to form any thoughts.

And then he was coming all over again. This time, the orgasm was wrung out of him, and he came all over the sheets, into the blanket and pillow and down his own thighs. And he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. Every part of his body was weakening, giving in, and he collapsed onto his side.

Behind him, Sephiroth lifted one thigh, and kept pounding into him. Cloud moaned weakly, and finally felt relief that Sephiroth’s rhythm was somewhat faltering. With a shudder and a quiet gasp, Sephiroth finally hit his peak and he managed to pull out halfway before firing his ropes of come all over the both of them.

He felt that stickiness on every part of his body, sweat and fluids mingling together to form one disgusting miasma. They had made such a mess. It had been so filthy, so primal – but yet he couldn’t deny that thread of tenderness that had been present. Had it always been there? Or was it new, born from the knowledge of their clashing circumstances?

He sat up, his body already coming down from its natural high, tempered by his own brain kicking in and telling him that this should not have happened at all. His ass was already throbbing, and his muscles were slow, bordering on uncooperative. He got up, hobbled to the bathroom to clean up, all the while careful not to look in Sephiroth’s direction.

He cleaned up and got dressed. Sephiroth was still in bed, an arm thrown around his forehead. He was naked, and thus should look vulnerable. Instead, he looked like a giant feral cat who was merely resting his eyes before he turned on his next prey.

In silence, Cloud pulled the cloak over his shoulders. He shouldn’t run, he knew. But he couldn’t stay. Not for another second. He crept towards the door, quietly lifted the Fusion Sword to hook it to his back, and toed his feet into his boots. He made quick work of it and in silence, but it really did not surprise him when he stood, and there were already two arms barricading him against the door.

He sighed. ‘Sephiroth …’ He could feel that hard, naked body against his back.

‘Stay,’ Sephiroth said, and it sounded like a command to him.

‘I don’t want to,’ he said quietly. ‘We shouldn’t have been doing this,’ he said, shame creeping into his voice. ‘Don’t trap me here.’

‘I’m not,’ Sephiroth said. ‘You are free to walk out of this door. I won’t stop you.’

Cloud glared at the door because he didn’t want to turn around. ‘Says the man who has his arms blocking the door from being opened right now.’

Sephiroth took the hint, and backed up. ‘There.’

Cloud stared at the closed door. He should walk out now, before he got sucked in against his will. Before he gave into his own temptations and weaknesses again. But his damned legs didn’t move. His hand wouldn’t reach out for the knob. Not when Sephiroth was there, just behind him, standing so close.

Do it, he told himself sternly.

This is the man who destroyed your home, your nation, your kingdom. The last two years he had been on the run so this wretched man could not scoop him up and drag his ass back to Midgar. Only the gods knew how he was thick-skinned enough to look at Sephiroth in the face and not crumble into a watery pile of shame.

And yet he didn’t move.

Sephiroth’s hand caressed his hair, and trailed down his back. Cloud stiffened. He didn’t want Sephiroth touching him, because he hated the feelings that inspired in him. It made him want to stay, to want more than what he had now.

And he knew better than anyone he did not deserve it.

He swallowed. ‘Don’t,’ he said.

‘Don’t what?’ Sephiroth coaxed, in that low, seductive timbre of his. It was dangerous at the best of times, but now, when he was already swayed, weak from his touch, it was simply too much.

‘You know what you’re doing,’ Cloud bit out. ‘We can’t start this shit again, Sephiroth. It’s been two years. Can we just consider this a stupid mistake, and just … go our own ways?’

‘I don’t know if I can. What if this … is a second chance?’ Sephiroth said, and that raised Cloud’s hackles.

‘No, it is not,’ Cloud said, even as Sephiroth’s hand glided over his torso, snuck underneath his shirt. The tingle of desire began to dance its way down his spine again, stroking his right nipple, then the other one. And then those fingers moved to the chain that hung between, and held it tight.

Cloud stiffened immediately, elbowing Sephiroth away, clamping his hand down on the pendant that he wore. But Sephiroth was even faster. He spun Cloud around, lifted his shirt to see what he kept so tightly in his fist. And Cloud knew then it was a mistake that he had made, but it had been an instinct rather than carefully thought out.

‘What’s that?’ Sephiroth asked, pointing to the pendant that Cloud held in his fist.

‘Nothing,’ Cloud answered, his heart thumping so loudly Sephiroth could probably hear it.

Sephiroth eyed him suspiciously. ‘You never wore a chain or a pendant before. I noticed it when you were on your back.’

‘It’s none of your business,’ Cloud barked. He had to calm down before he gave everything away.

‘On the contrary,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I saw part of it, and now I’m curious to see what it is.’

Fuck. Cloud knew it had been a bad idea, but two years ago, it had been somewhat of a saving grace for him. When he felt lonely, felt upset, felt scared, he would squeeze his hand tight over the little transparent plastic square, and he would calm down. It was a stupid, pointless crutch, but it had carried him through the very worst moments during the past two and the half years.

‘You don’t need to see it,’ Cloud said.

‘It has my signature on it,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I think I have a right to see it, actually.’

There was a rush of blood to his head. ‘Fuck off, Sephiroth. Now, if you’re done with your bullshit, I want to leave. Surely you’re not going to hold me here against my will?’

‘No,’ Sephiroth said slowly. ‘I just want to know why there is apparently one last thing legally tying us together when I’ve been thinking otherwise for two years now.’ His glance fell onto the pendant that Cloud still fisted, and his heart dropped out of his stomach.

His hand slowly lowered. It didn’t matter if he knew, Cloud thought. It didn’t matter anymore. It had been two years, and what Cloud did with it was none of Sephiroth’s business.

‘You didn’t destroy it,’ Sephiroth said so gently and tenderly that something in Cloud’s heart twinged. ‘The tributary agreement.’

‘I did,’ Cloud said defiantly.

‘But not the last page.’ The last page with their legal signatures binding them to the agreement.

Cloud could not answer. So his pressed his lips tightly together.

Sephiroth’s eyes searched his.

It might have been seconds, or minutes, but it felt like an eternity passed before either of them moved again. It was Sephiroth who made the first move, closing what distance they had between them, his arm holding tight on Cloud’s waist. That kiss said everything they could not.

When Sephiroth finally broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to Cloud’s, who could only close his eyes and lean forward.

‘I can’t do this again,’ Cloud said, and suddenly his knees gave way underneath himself. He simply sat where he landed. He felt the man’s arms around him. His own voice was beyond broken. ‘We can’t. We don’t … we don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve this.’ The last sentence rose in a strangled sob. ‘Gods, the things we’ve done.’

Sephiroth held him for a while, even as he choked incoherently on the stream of indecipherable emotions that flooded out of him. He pressed the back of his trembling hand to his mouth, unable to even look at the man in the eyes.

Cloud didn’t know how long he sat there for, but that tremulous tension between held taut. Sephiroth spoke quietly, ‘We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. We don’t have to … think further than beyond this right now. Just … stay with me until I have to leave.’

‘When … when do you leave?’ Cloud asked, couldn’t help that lick of fear and apprehension that coursed through him. Did he want Sephiroth to leave, or stay? But it was that thread of desperation in Sephiroth’s tone that made him want to stay.

‘We depart Mideel tomorrow evening,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Stay with me until then. Please.’

Cloud braced himself for more. But there was no more. There were no demands for him to come back, to stay with Sephiroth, to come back to Midgar.

He lifted his head, and his hand to rub a tendril of silver hair between his fingers. ‘Tomorrow evening,’ he promised. Just one more day, he promised himself. And then he would go.

He let Sephiroth lead him back to bed.


	23. Chapter 23

Sephiroth was having trouble believing that this was actually happening.

That it was his beloved who was asleep in the same bed as him. That they were sharing space and breathed the same air and Sephiroth could touch his skin if he reached out.

Cloud was currently asleep, or passed out, really, after their third round of what really amounted to them mauling each other. Sephiroth was propped up on one elbow, palm under his own head. He watched as Cloud snored lightly, his normally wary face unguarded and slack in sleep.

He ran his fingers gently over those sharp features. That chin. Those cheeks. Those fluttery eyelashes. The pale eyebrows. Were those features always that sharp? Perhaps more so than it was two years ago. His body had always been on the slender side, but he had thinned out further, and bulked out those muscles. From hard manual labor, perhaps?

Had the intervening years been kind to him? Had he found joy and contentment? Had he been happy?

Sephiroth had hoped so. He had hoped that despite everything, and what it meant, Cloud had been happy.

Or was he like Sephiroth, living like a shadow of his former self, going through the motions of daily life and hoping to be distracted by that ever pervasive gloom of sadness. Or vacillating between anger and despair. Disappointment. Regret. That emptiness inside his heart.

He thought he had been fairly successful in adapting back to his old life, pre-consort.

But one glance at Cloud, and one touch of his skin was enough to destroy that pitiful illusion of happiness. He hadn’t been happy. He had been surviving.

His hand kept tracing those lines, down Cloud’s jaw and onto the pale expanse of his neck. Graceful, swan-like. Yet sinewy and taut with muscle. His hand stayed there.

For a moment, the overwhelming desire to throttle the man who had brought such pain into his life overcame him. It was so powerful that he had to fight it for a moment.

Sephiroth had been trained from a very young age to deny pain – in the labs, in the training halls, in battle, in war. Pain was nothing but a flicker of sensation that trickled down his back, left behind in his wake as he kept moving. He was meant to be stronger, tougher. Better than everyone else.

But gods above, Cloud Strife had brought him pain like no other. No one, and nothing had even come close. He had brought Sephiroth down to his knees with the agony of heartbreak, and Sephiroth realized that he was only human.

He might have been stronger and tougher than any other human on Gaia, but he was certainly no better, and no less human.

This man had destroyed all that he had worked so hard to build. How many years had he fronted the lines, fought for glory for the empire, again and again and again until blood was a cloak of victory draped across his body.

And how many years had he dedicated to working behind that desk, slaving into the endless nights to keep the empire strong in the face of opposition, making decision after decision in order to strengthen and sustain the empire.

This man who had been so stubborn, took what belonged to Sephiroth and dared to run away. How many nights had Sephiroth lain back in his empty bed, solitary and alone, despising himself for wishing for that warmth in his arms and the joy in his heart that he once had and had then lost.

He had loved and despised the man in equal measures. But then again, Cloud had taught Sephiroth one lesson that he hadn’t known.

Sephiroth’s hand moved away from Cloud’s neck.

Cloud had belonged to no one, except himself. All the threats and bribes in the world could not bring his love home to him.

The rest of the night after he had persuaded Cloud to stay had been a blur of orgasms and a stretch of mindless, physical bliss. Cloud bloomed like a flower, opening up to Sephiroth in every way possible. After all this time, his insatiable urges roared back to life. As the night progressed, he grew more demanding.

He wanted to be taken on his knees, his back – fucked until he had nothing left and all the pleasure had been wrung out of his thin body. He was nearly as bad as Cloud, unable to hold onto his stamina for too long. His enforced celibacy had consequences. Inside that ridiculously tight passage, wet and hot, clenched desperately around his cock, was enough to wrench the orgasm out of him whether he liked it or not.

It was now nearly dawn, and Cloud had finally given into his exhaustion. After their last round, he had collapsed into sleeping almost without warning. Sephiroth had cleaned him up, trying his best to wipe up that moist, sweaty fucked-out body currently curled on its side. The bed wasn’t clean by any means, but it would have to do for now. He did not want to wake Cloud.

Sephiroth’s gaze drifted to the pendant that lay on the bed, barely touching Cloud’s sternum. It was a simple plastic pouch, the type that you would slide a keycard into. And in there, was a worn, folded sheet of paper that bore his signature.

Sephiroth had known what it was at first sight. The plastic had flown and landed next to Cloud’s head when Sephiroth had first pushed him down. The damp plastic pocket, droplets from the shower on the surface, landed next to Cloud’s head, and Sephiroth had gotten a very clear glimpse of it.

It was his official signature, not the simple ‘S’ he used for most of the reports and proposals on his desk. But his full name, an elaborate signature with decorative loops and scrawls. There weren’t many things that required the full spectacle, but he had definitely used it on one document – his wedding certificate, the tributary agreement. And that had been the only document Cloud had in his possession.

He couldn’t lie to himself. It had shocked him.

Two years ago, he had handed the document to Cloud in good faith that it would remind him of his duty to Sephiroth. But by the time he had burned Nibelheim Castle to the ground, he had no doubts that Cloud would have cast the document into the fire. He had clearly made his decision, and that piece of paper meant nothing in the grand scheme fulfilling his destiny as king.

So Sephiroth had let him go. He had to, or he would have lost his mind.

But Cloud had kept that single page with their signatures on it. Sephiroth wasn’t completely sure it was still legally binding, but the fact that Cloud had kept it, even treasured it – it could only mean one thing.

It wasn’t over for Cloud.

And how did Sephiroth feel about that?

He had lost Cloud once. His own fears had propelled him towards irrationality.

But now, he wasn’t as afraid as before. He knew he could survive again. He could live his own life quite perfectly without Cloud.

Cloud had called this a mistake, but Sephiroth wondered if it was a second chance. Whether it was given to them by the gods, or the cosmos, or it was sheer fucking coincidence didn’t matter. He wouldn’t squander it.

Or at least, he would try.

But he knew it had to be different from how it was two years ago.

Cloud twitched in his sleep, then all of a sudden he jerked awake. Even in the dim light, Sephiroth could make out that haunted look of surprise when his gaze landed on Sephiroth. It was all panic, then relief, then panic all over again. His arms and legs twitched, tensing up. As if he was ready to run.

Sephiroth calmly placed a hand on his cheek. ‘Go back to sleep, little cat. You have nothing to fear.’

In response, Cloud’s blue eyes only welled up. Big, fat tears leaked from his eyes and into the pillow. He didn’t blink, soaking up the sight of Sephiroth with his eyes. Throughout his silent weeping, all Sephiroth could do was wipe away those tears.

In the month and a little that he had known Cloud, he knew that Cloud was no crybaby. And now he couldn’t stop weeping in the hours they had spent together.

Was Sephiroth the villain in his story? The demon from his nightmares? The cause of Cloud’s sorrow? Even the thought of it made him sad. He never meant to cause grief to the man who had brought him such great joy and contentment, despite their rough beginnings.

Cloud closed his eyes, and slept.

Sephiroth kept watch over him until he couldn’t anymore. He placed one hand on Cloud’s waist, as if he could keep him anchored even while they slept.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and startled him out of his sleep. The sun was high up in the sky. The space next to him was unoccupied.

He got up, and found a breakfast trolley waiting outside. Sephiroth swallowed his fears for a moment, and then his brain kicked in as he heard the sounds of a bath running.

The door was ajar, so he pushed in quietly and perched himself on the edge of the bathtub. Cloud lowered himself gingerly, inhaling steam deep into his lungs. He must have been terribly sore, Sephiroth thought as he eyed him with satisfaction and lust. After all, Sephiroth had pounded into him rather mercilessly all night.

They had both needed it.

Cloud opened those glorious blue eyes that stared straight at him. Wary and scared – the eyes of a hunted animal.

‘I’ve missed you,’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud did not answer.

‘May I?’ Sephiroth asked, gesturing to the bathwater.

Cloud shrugged.

Sephiroth lowered himself into the water, and he watched Cloud on the opposite side. Everything in his body screamed to get closer to Cloud, but he could see and feel the walls that Cloud had put up in front of him.

‘Would you tell me what you’ve been up to the last two years?’

That startled Cloud for a brief moment before he reverted to his usual guardedness. ‘I don’t think you want to hear about me rebuilding my home.’

Sephiroth sighed. ‘I am sorry. Truly sorry.’

Cloud surveyed him quietly, and Sephiroth saw him visibly calming himself, as if he was swallowing a whole host of angry words rushing to the surface. ‘I am glad to hear that you are rebuilding your home.’

‘Are you really?’ Cloud asked. ‘Considering you were the one who ordered it all to be burned down to nothing.’

Sephiroth kept his composure. He deserved that dig, of course. 

‘What do you want from me, Sephiroth? I won’t, and I can’t stay with you past this evening. I can’t go back with you to Midgar. What exactly do you want from me?’

‘There’s nothing I want from you.’

Cloud blinked. ‘You’re lying.’ There was a thread of vehemence in Cloud’s tone that warned Sephiroth to tread lightly.

‘I am not,’ Sephiroth said calmly. He had more than enough time, watching over Cloud, to think about his next move. ‘But I will offer you my terms.’

‘Not this again,’ Cloud said disparagingly. There was a hint of anger underneath, and Sephiroth found himself rather pleased to see it. His little cat had always been feisty. He had been afraid that the trauma had beaten it out of him. ‘Let’s hear it,’ Cloud said sarcastically.

‘Have Nibelheim sue the empire for peace.’

‘What?’ Cloud demanded.

‘Sue for reparations. If you are in the middle of rebuilding, you will need resources. The empire can provide that. Most of my actual decision-making powers will be gone in few years, but right now I can still help you. I can provide you with whatever resources you require – building materials. Manpower. Skills. Supplies. You will have whatever you require to help you rebuild, and whatever expertise you need. I can help you stabilize your rule, by supplementing your experience with my own.’

‘I am no longer king,’ Cloud said quietly.

Sephiroth looked at him, unable to veil the shock on his face.

Cloud couldn’t even look at him. ‘It was for the best,’ he explained. ‘I’m currently the regent. But I agreed to step down when my nephew reaches the age of majority.’

Sephiroth took the time to process this news. He leaned his elbow against the edge of the tub, hand against his own jaw, as if that it could stop him from asking the questions that would surely put Cloud on the defensive, such as _what_ _nephew_? And why the hell did Cloud allow himself to be pushed around this way? He had been pressured into stepping up as king, then struck down when things had gone awry.

But Sephiroth knew better than anyone that power was a fickle mistress. It sided with the strong, and sometimes fault lines could be exposed with a single weakness. He sighed heavily and opened his eyes. ‘Why?’

Cloud shrugged. ‘It was for the best,’ he said again, although it explained nothing at all. ‘Loss of confidence in my rule, I suppose. And … as a consequence for losing Nibelheim, perhaps.’ He shrugged one shoulder, trying to affect nonchalance. But Sephiroth saw right through him. It was a loss that hurt.

Cloud saw Sephiroth’s expression, and let out an awkward, mirthless chuckle that fooled no one. ‘I suppose there’s some irony in the outcome. It’s what I deserve.’

‘It’s not what you deserve,’ Sephiroth said, feeling a spurt of irrational anger rise in him. Cloud had thrown away everything to be a king, including Sephiroth, and now … he wasn’t even one?

But who was he to talk? Sephiroth himself, the supposed emperor of Shinra, was right on track on a ten-year schedule to transition his rights to rule autonomously over what was left of the empire to a central government.

Had they both lost so much in the pursuit of two different goals? Had their destruction been mutually assured through their actions?

Sephiroth turned away, unable to fight the dismay he felt.

He felt, rather than saw, Cloud move towards him in the water. He planted a kiss against Sephiroth’s temple, and it was almost sweet and consoling in its childish simplicity. He could see the palpable sadness in those beautiful eyes that he was sure was mirrored in his own.

He let those willing arms tug him into its warm embrace. And he sat there for a while, felt that wet, blond head rest against the crook of his shoulder.

‘No matter your role in the administration of Nibelheim, Cloud, you will always have my support.’

He could feel Cloud visibly stiffen, and that affectionate touch retracted almost immediately. ‘That was all I wanted two years ago,’ he said quietly, his voice tense with emotion.

‘And I am truly sorry I couldn’t give it to you then.’ Sephiroth said. ‘But as you said, it has been two years. Many things have changed. I no longer have you by my side, as you can see.’

Did Cloud know and understand what sort of torment that had been?

Had he experienced the same?

Cloud looked at him wearily. ‘What do you want in return, Sephiroth? Did you want me to move my plans to Midgar?’

‘No, you may keep your original plans without altering them. I suppose it is near here, is it not?’

Cloud ignored his question. ‘Then what?’ he asked. ‘What are you asking of me? You want me back in Midgar, don’t you?’

‘No.’

Nothing he had said had ever shocked Cloud like this.

‘You … you don’t want me back in your life?’ he asked, disbelief punctuating his every word.

‘I do,’ Sephiroth corrected. ‘Of course, I do. But if there’s anything I learned these past two years it’s that you’re not going to come back unless you’re willing to do it on your own terms, Cloud. And I respect that.’

‘Then why the hell would you help me rebuild my nation if there’s no chance of me coming back to you?’

‘Because I am to blame for the destruction of your home. And therefore it is my responsibility to help you rebuild. Of course, I won’t lie. I will always hold out the hope that it will sway your ongoing desire to return to me. But the truth is, Cloud, you’ve left me too many times now. And it is only during the last two years that I’ve stopped waiting for you. I can’t wait for you for the rest of my life, and I won’t.’

‘You’re just issuing another ultimatum …’

‘No,’ Sephiroth said simply. ‘I am not. I will help you rebuild what I have destroyed, as this is my only way to make reparations. Whether or not you return is up to you. They both do not hinge upon one another; both are not conditional. My heart is yours, and I know now that you still care deeply for me. I simply wish for us to be together, but I can’t force your return any more than I can wait another two or twenty years in the futile hopes that you will come back one day. It hurts too much, and I won’t do it.’

Cloud mulled over this in silence, as if trying to decide if he was walking into a trap. ‘What … did you mean by what you said? That your heart is mine?’

Sephiroth stared at him. ‘I would like to think that the phrase is fairly self-explanatory …’

‘I don’t—I don’t follow – you once said before that you cared for me, but you never said anything about love.’ Cloud’s words came out in an almost accusatory tone.

Sephiroth still stared. There was a long silence. ‘Of course I was in love with you. Why else would I have done all of that two years ago?’

The look on Cloud’s face shook him to his core. Inside of Sephiroth, shock churned with disbelief, and warred with a dawning sense of horror. Had Cloud not known? Had he not at least suspected? Had Sephiroth never once spoke those words to Cloud so he would have known that Sephiroth had fought for something beyond the sanctity of a tributary agreement? Had he failed so poorly in communicating his own true feelings when military commands and administrative orders came so easily to him?

The answer came simply to him. It was because it was so much easier then for Cloud to live in denial in pursuit of his own goals. And it had been a matter of deep pride to Sephiroth that the confession stayed deep in his heart when his spouse had spurned everything that Sephiroth had offered to him on a gilded platter.

So maybe in the grand scheme of things, his feelings hadn’t mattered.

Would it have made a difference if Cloud had known how he felt?

Sephiroth rose from the tub. He had said what needed to be said, and there was nothing else left but a sense of empty despair that stemmed from their mutual failures to communicate properly. ‘I will leave you to your bath. Join me for breakfast when you’re done.’

Cloud swallowed nervously. ‘How long?’

Sephiroth paused. ‘Sorry?’

‘How long do I have to decide … if I wish to take you up on your offer?’

He sighed. ‘The offer is an open one. The first has no time limit. Whatever assistance you require to rebuild is at your disposal should you choose to utilize it. As for the second … if you are seriously entertaining any thoughts of following up on my offer, then you know where I live, Cloud.’

‘Am I still allowed into Midgar?’ Cloud asked.

‘Why wouldn’t you be?’

‘I thought … after everything that happened, my free entry would be revoked.’

‘It was your home once. I would never revoke your entry.’

‘Well, I thought that I would be pounced on the moment I stepped into the city,’ Cloud said.

‘No,’ Sephiroth clarified. ‘When you walked away from Nibelheim, it was over. I knew of your answer then.’ He saw the mixture of conflicted emotions on Cloud’s face. ‘I know it’s a lot to take in so I won’t push you. But for now, I am grateful that you will stay with me until this evening when I depart for Junon Harbor.’

Cloud bent his forehead to his drawn-up knees. ‘For what it’s worth … I am deeply sorry for all that I have done.’

‘I am, too,’ Sephiroth said. Then he closed the bathroom door behind him.

But no matter how he urged himself to stay calm, he could not concentrate on the stack of work waiting for him on the desk. He was supposed to spend the night blitzing through them, but he hadn’t looked at a single page. He had spent the entire night staring at Cloud instead. The husband who had done a runner. The man who had professed to love him but had chosen to leave instead.

Time was ticking down now. They had about twelve hours left with each other.

He took a deep breath and told himself to savor what was left. So when Cloud came out of the bathroom, Sephiroth felt his hunger deepen. But he let Cloud pick at a meagre breakfast of fruit and water before he got up, crossed over to him and hauled him up to his toes for a bruising kiss.

Cloud moaned against him, his fingers gripping onto Sephiroth for dear life, as if he was dangling from a window. Those fingernails dug into his bare chest, but Sephiroth ignored the sting. He pressed Cloud deeper into his arms, taking what he wanted, until the blond was as good as putty in his hands. Soft and pliable, eager and hungry, just the way Sephiroth liked him.

He dragged him over to the bed, tossed him onto the firm mattress. Cloud landed on his stomach, and barely shifted before Sephiroth yanked his pants down. He slid his cock into that soft, wet hole still swollen from their rough sex, open and ready from their repeated fucking the night before.

Cloud gasped and moaned at the same time, sounding like he was choking. Sephiroth thrusted into him harder, was pleased to find out that he could still pound those sounds out of him. Cloud clenched around him, and Sephiroth’s eyes nearly crossed for a moment. He listened as Cloud screamed his pleasure into the pillow his face was currently buried against, and Sephiroth closed his eyes, enjoying the obscene sounds of their skins slapping against each other, the way that heat rose and spiraled in his belly, the way he thrusted so hard that Cloud’s thighs trembled against him.

Suspended in that moment, it was easy to bridge the vast chasm of the emptiness of the past two years. And it was easy to believe that the desperation between the both of them had manifested from the flame of love they still held in their hearts, even after so long.

And he knew that as long as there was love, there would be hope.

He didn’t want to wait for Cloud, didn’t want to subject himself to that pain, but it was clear that perhaps there was a part of him that would willingly wait out the rest of his life for this man to come home.

When it was over, he remained inside, loving the warmth he was buried in. he carefully tilted to his side, bringing Cloud with him. He could feel Cloud’s racing heart pulsing under his skin, and he only tightened his hold. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the lack of sleep finally catch up to him.

And when he finally did open his eyes again, Cloud was still in his arms. There was such a simple, unbridled joy inside of him, tempered with the bitterness of knowledge that he might not have another chance. He had to leave Mideel this evening in order to fulfill his official tour schedule. And as much as he would like to stay inside the confines of this hotel suite and fuck Cloud for the rest of his life, he could not.

He looked at the clock. And glanced down to see Cloud’s eyes were open as well, his gaze fixed on the clock. Cloud was never a very good liar, and he often wore his emotions on his sleeve. And now his face spelled out anxiety and apprehension, although he turned his head into the pillow when he saw Sephiroth watching him.

Sephiroth’s finger stroked trails down his spine, drawing lightly on his back. Cloud didn’t move or respond, but seemed to enjoy the touch.

‘I have some errands to run outside of the hotel. I would like you to come with me,’ Sephiroth said, having remembered the promise he had made to Angeal about picking up the ring for Genesis and Aerith’s souvenir.

At first Sephiroth wanted nothing more than to push those errands onto someone else, but he realized that Cloud would benefit from a distraction. He was fidgety and twitchy, anxiety wafting off him in waves, and if they were stuck in the room any longer there was no telling what Cloud would do next. The last thing he wanted was for Cloud to leave before their allotted time was up.

Cloud lifted his head from the pillow. ‘I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to be seen with me,’ he said warily.

‘Please,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I just want you by my side.’

They rose from bed, freshened up and got dressed. He watched as Cloud pulled on the cloak that he wore yesterday. They retraced their steps out of the room and hotel, back to the jeweler’s shop.

He realized from the way Cloud held himself, the way he disappeared under the cloak – he was hiding himself from the world, shrinking into the shadows.

He was quiet in a way he had never been before the fall of Nibelheim. All that natural vivacity and charm, gone, as surely as the ash of Nibehlheim had dissipated into the air.

The circumstances hadn’t broken Cloud Strife. It was Sephiroth who had.

He tensed, then wrapped his fingers around Cloud’s rigid fist.

Cloud paused hesitantly when he realized that Sephiroth had stopped in front of their destination, but Sephiroth placed a hand at his elbow for reassurance. ‘I’ll be quick,’ he promised. Cloud squared his shoulders, and followed him into the shop.

The shop was curiously tiny, and empty during this time of the day. An old man sat in the corner, working on a piece of jewelry that looked like a necklace. The shop interior was plain, with only a long display table in the middle of the floor. In the back were boxes and shelves full of equipment.

There was nothing remotely impressive about this place, but Angeal had explained to him that the old man was the best jeweler on this continent. His craftsmanship skills were out of this world, and he only accepted commissions when he felt like it. His prices were exorbitant, but well worth the money. Angeal received a generous salary from the empire, but he still had to use a significant chunk of his savings in order to commission this ring for Genesis.

The old man looked up, his milky eyes swinging between Sephiroth and Cloud. There was a tiny hint of recognition in the old man’s eyes as they landed on Cloud, but Cloud lowered his head. The old man said nothing.

‘Master Bugenhagen,’ Sephiroth greeted.

The old man adjusted his glasses. ‘General Sephiroth. What brings you to my humble shop today?’

‘General Hewley placed an order with you a few months ago, and he asked me to pick it up on his behalf.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Bugenhagen said, and got to his feet. He ambled over to the shelves and pulled out a small, palm-sized velvet box. He walked over to the table, and placed the opened box on the table.

Despite the simplicity of the box, the ring inside it was anything but.

It was an elaborate thing of gold and crimson, carefully crafted precious metal twisted in a fiery circle that flanked the crowning jewel – a glittering ruby with glints of green swirling inside of it. The ruby itself was rare, but the fact it had been synthesized with actual mako made it a functional fire materia. Sephiroth approved, because it showed the depth of Angeal’s understanding of his lover’s personality.

Sephiroth closed the box and tucked it into his coat. ‘It looks exquisite, Master.’

‘Thank you, my lord,’ Bugenhagen said. ‘May I help you with anything else?’

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth said. ‘I’m looking for a gift for a friend, and something special for the child she is currently carrying.’

Bugenhagen guided him to the display table and showed him the limited, but superb range of the jewelry he currently had. Sephiroth pointed out a pair of round cabochon emerald earrings, set in white gold for his friend. The green was the exact shade of Aerith’s eyes, and would complement her beauty perfectly. For his godchild, he picked a dainty platinum anklet that had tiny charms dangling from it, depicting the old gods of yore, in hope that the child would grow up to be strong and lively like its father and mother.

Cloud spoke his first words since they left the hotel. ‘Who … are these gifts for?’

‘Aerith.’

Cloud’s sigh was sad and knowing. ‘And she has a child?’

‘She’s about five months along.’

To his surprise, Cloud’s eyes welled up. He excused himself and exited the shop. Sephiroth turned to the pay for the items. ‘Master Bugenhagen, you recognize the man who was with me.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘Yes,’ the old man said politely. ‘He was in here yesterday.’

‘If you do not mind me asking, what was he in here to buy?’

The old man merely looked at Sephiroth. ‘Then he walked over to his work table, pulled open the drawer and took out a small wooden box. ‘He wasn’t buying anything,’ the master said. ‘He was selling this.’

Sephiroth picked it up and opened it. Then sighed in faint dismay.

‘It is worth a lot of money, as you know. They simply don’t mine mythril anymore,’ the old man said, his eyes piercing Sephiroth’s. ‘But you would know that, wouldn’t you, general? After all, it’s his pair, the half to your own.’

Sephiroth looked at the wedding ring that had once sat on Cloud’s finger. Their wedding rings were forged from platinum and steel, with the core made up of pure mythril. There was a tiny stock of mythril left in Midgar, possibly the last in the world. For his wedding, he had commissioned two rings to be forged from the tiny nugget of precious metal. His own had been left sitting in the drawer back in the Tower. And here was Cloud’s …

Had he held onto it for so long?

‘I am assuming you are interested in buying back your spouse’s half of the wedding ring?’ the man asked.

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth answered.

‘Then please be aware that since I paid handsomely for it, I would like my money back. And a little extra, as I was planning to craft several pieces from it. Very profitable pieces. As you know, there’s hardly any mythril to go around anymore.’

‘I’ll pay you double,’ Sephiroth said in resignation.

The old man cracked a smile. ‘Very well, general. I do hope … that it works out for you. For the both of you.’ The old man handed the box over to him, and rang up the total. Even if he braced himself, Sephiroth could barely keep his eyebrows from winging into his hairline.

He might have been the ruler of a fairly prosperous empire, but even he received a stipend to avoid the empire’s treasury being used as his own personal fortune. And since he had a long standing policy of financial prudence since his early days of joining SOLDIER, his fortune was sizeable. But even then, he had to wince.

He exited the shop, only to have Cloud eye him up and down, as if he was searching for something. When Sephiroth did not say anything, he heaved a small sigh of relief. ‘So Aerith and Zack and expecting a child?’

‘Yes. It looks to be due in spring,’ Sephiroth said. ‘They are hoping that it is a girl.’

‘Right,’ Cloud said, his gaze staring into the distance. ‘I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?’

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth said. And simply left it at that. He could sense that Cloud’s mood had taken a turn for the worse. Cloud always had a streak of moodiness in him. When he was happy, it was obvious, and when he was sad … well, there was something to be said for the figurative cloud over his head, as befitting his name. His mother had named him well. ‘Would you like to see the hot mako springs with me?’

‘No,’ Cloud said. ‘If we are done here, do you mind if we return to your suite?’

When they got back, Cloud tossed aside his cloak, and lay down on the bed. Sephiroth lay down next to him, curled his arm around Cloud’s chest, and felt the hot stream of tears plopping silently on his bare arms.

There was just so much inside of them – some that could be said, some that couldn’t. Sephiroth understood that sentiment perfectly. The sadness that swamped the both of them was eager and pervasive, and it was hard to picture a future together when there was so much restraining them.

And yet, he still had hope.

But he was also realistic. The pain of the last two years had taught him self-preservation. So when there was a discreet knock on the door and Zack’s voice saying, ‘We leave in an hour’, he knew that despite the panic in Cloud’s eyes and his own reluctance, he had to go.

‘That can’t be right,’ Cloud said. ‘It’s not evening yet. Is it?’ With his spiky hair askew and flatter than usual, his slender body tensed up and the expression on his face troubled, it desperately tempted Sephiroth to give in, to say that he would stay.

He swallowed that instinct. He could not. He had his own duties to perform. And as much as he wanted differently, Cloud was not currently part of his life. He had chosen not to be, and they all had to live with the consequences. His friends had been right – he had to let Cloud go to live his own life. If he kept chasing, Cloud would keep running.

And Sephiroth refused to spend the rest of his life pursuing a man who did not want to come home.

‘I have to go,’ he said gently.

Cloud’s face fell, and he looked away. Sephiroth got dressed in a constricted, terrible silence.

He strapped his sword to his belt, and turned to Cloud. But he saw Cloud’s mouth open, and he waited patiently.

The words tripped out of him, hesitantly, awkwardly. ‘How would … it all work? If I said yes to you? How are we going to make this work, Sephiroth? The things that people would say? The condemnation that we would face?’

‘I’ve never cared what people said,’ Sephiroth answered simply. ‘I never have.’ He had been cursed daily in his seemingly-endless fight with Wutai, and rumors had swirled around his reputation long after he had massacred the emperor. No one needed to know his motivations save himself. ‘You only have to make up your mind on two fronts. Firstly, if you will use my proffered help to rebuild. Secondly, if you will return to me and resume our relationship. Our marriage,’ he pointed out, glancing meaningfully toward the plastic pendant that he knew was hidden underneath Cloud’s clothing.

Cloud flushed, clutched his chest guiltily.

Sephiroth walked up to him, ran a gloved hand over that downcast cheek, and gently but firmly lifted that chin upwards with the tilt of his finger and thumb. ‘My darling, it’s always been your choice. If you had wanted it for even a moment, I know we can try to make it work. Despite all the odds. But let me leave you in no doubt of my feelings once and for all – if you return to me, I swear to love you to within the inch of your life. You will never again want for anything from me.’

Cloud closed his eyes, and Sephiroth held him for a moment, feeling those tears roll off his gloved fingers. ‘I don’t think it’s wise to cure the leather with all this salt.’

His attempt at light-headed humor had the intended effect – Cloud looked up, gaped at him. But the tears stopped, and he even chuckled weakly. ‘Was that you cracking a joke, Sephiroth?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Sephiroth wiped those tears away.

‘It was terrible,’ Cloud said. ‘Don’t do it again.’

‘I won’t,’ Sephiroth smiled down at Cloud. ‘I promise. Goodbye, my cat. Be well.’

And with one last kiss – a strangely chaste one, considering their history of intimacy – Sephiroth picked up his briefcase and left the hotel room. He ensured that Cloud would want for nothing for as long as he chose to stay in the room.

He did not permit himself even one last look back, afraid that his willpower would falter. It felt like they had come a full circle. Cloud had always been the one leaving him, and Sephiroth was constantly pleading and threatening him to return. Now he was the one who had to walk away, because he knew he could, and he had to.

He had a good life. It was lonely, it was quiet, and it was devoid of Cloud, but it was still a good life.

He ignored his stinging eyes and the weight in his chest. He looked across the darkening horizon as the airship took to the air, carrying him farther and farther away from the man he had once loved and lost, and had now lost again.


	24. Chapter 24

He stayed inside the hotel room for one more night after Sephiroth had left earlier in the evening.

He didn’t know why he did it to himself – this utter madness, this self-inflicted torture. He felt like puking his guts out every time it occurred to him that this time, he had been the one who had been left behind. It didn’t feel good at all. In fact, it felt downright awful.

He understood Sephiroth’s reasons, of course. If their positions were reversed, he would not have hesitated to do what Sephiroth had done. They had wronged each other, but Cloud had done it first.

He should have gotten up, dressed, and back onto his bike. Back to his people who were waiting for him. But he simply did not have the desire, nor the motivation. 

He curled deeper under the covers, and willed himself to sleep.

But the cold hand of loneliness weighed down upon him, suffocating him. That swirling emptiness inside his chest cavity was unbearable.

He had laid himself bare to the man he loved, and now he felt like a raw, pulsing _thing_ that hurt everywhere.

All those emotions inside of him, intolerably real, each of them as excruciating as the next.

Churning and swimming inside of him, with nowhere else to go.

It surprised a sob out of him. Then it came hard and fast. But it fucking hurt to cry. His eyes were already puffy and tired from the exertions of the day before, and his tear glands were working overtime and punishing him for every tear that squeezed out from his eyes.

Despite the bed being large and empty save for him, and the room clean and tidy, all he could smell was Sephiroth. The scent of his clean skin, the sex they had in the room. It was both terrible and titillating, and he hated being here.

But at least when he cried, there was no one to hear it. Then again, there was no one to hold him either.

He had lived without Sephiroth for so long. He could continue to do so. Despite the fact that he had forgiven Sephiroth for what he did, he could not forget. This was the man who destroyed his castle, decimated his kingdom.

And Cloud really shouldn’t have been surprised. This was the same man who killed his liege. The cold-blooded man who had slaughtered thousands had also killed his own father. The man did not care about anyone else but himself, or what Cloud had wanted. He was selfish and cruel. A terrible human being.

Then why did Cloud still want to return to him?

Why did every fiber of his being call out for its mate?

Why did he desperately want, more than anything else, to return to his side?

In the early hours of the morning, he dragged himself out of bed and splashed water on his face. His body felt sore and fatigued, but there was really nothing to it. He refused to stay in this empty room for even a minute longer. He got dressed, ignored the breakfast that sat there waiting for him.

He located his bike, and sped back to the harbor, caught the first ferry back to the mainland continent. Then he made the solitary journey back to the cobbled-together foundations of his new home. He travelled through the night, seeing no need to stop. If he had too much free time to himself, his mind would only wander.

He breathed more easily when his feet touched down in Kalm.

At this early hour, there were already a handful people tilling the soil. Hundreds of acres of land stretched out as far as the eye could see. The buildings were beginning to sprout nicely. He saw that in his absence, they had raised the roofs for the row of houses they were currently working on.

The houses looked like houses now with the roofs on. He slowed down as he rode past them, and they waved at him and shouted their morning greetings. He felt a sense of pride well-up inside of him.

He parked the bike and switched off the ignition. His entire lower back and legs were throbbing, aching like a bad tooth. He was dusty from all the travel, and all he wanted now was a hot shower.

When he opened the door to the farmhouse, he saw his loved ones around the breakfast table. His sweet mother sat at the head, nursing her mug of tea. There were more lines on her face than two years ago, and she had lost some weight. But her pale face never lost its patrician dignity, and her sweet calm. She was a queen dowager dressed in plain clothes, but it did nothing to dim her shine. Her blond hair, now streaked liberally with white, was backlit with sunlight that streamed in through the windows.

She had told Cloud once before – it did not matter if they could not reclaim their kingdom. This was their destiny, and they only had to live. Her patient wisdom came from the loss of her precious son, and she did not want to put an overwhelming amount of pressure on the only one she had left.

Tifa sat to her right, her silky brown hair longer than ever, now tied off with a ribbon at the end. She had been his most steadfast, most enthusiastic supporter, and her optimistic presence had been vital in motivating their people. They had been good friends before, but since the fall of Nibelheim, it felt like all they had was each other.

His love for her remained platonic and affectionate, and he knew it was the same for her as well. But while she was tentatively ready for a new start, he was … not quite there. And every time Tifa had brought up marriage, Cloud felt the plastic pouch that he wore around his neck burning against his chest.

He felt a flush of shame. To all of them, he was well and truly on his own, with no lingering ties to the empire. That was the truth. For the most part.

He leaned down to give the two women a brief hug, and accepted the caress on the cheek from his mother. ‘I thought it was a brief trip, darling. You’re a day later than expected.’

‘It was. I just got … distracted. By the sights.’ Cloud pulled off the Fusion Sword and put it aside before removing his cloak. ‘Mideel was beautiful.’ He felt terrible for the half-truths. ‘But I managed to do what I needed there.’ He removed the neatly tied stack of cash from a secure pocket of his bag, and placed it on the table.

‘What the hell,’ Tifa said, eyeing the stack. ‘Are you sure it was just the ring you sold and not a house made of gold?’

‘It’s the mythril in the band,’ Cloud explained. His forced cheer was exhausting even himself.

‘What’s wrong?’ his mother asked, instantly concerned.

‘I’m just tired from the trip,’ he said. Then affixed a smile onto his face. ‘I might go down for a rest. When I wake up, we can go over the plans for the next few weeks.’

‘All right then,’ his mother said, uncertainty in her tone.

He headed straight upstairs for the bedroom right at the end of the hallway. It was one of the smallest there, barely bigger than a broom closet. But it was his, and it afforded him a modicum of privacy in that very busy household.

It was a simple room, a drastic change from all that he had ever known. From the roaring hearths in Nibelheim Castle with his own down and feather bed and his favorite artwork on the wall to the spacious, modern suite that was all opulence and luxury in Shinra Tower, he was now in a freshly built farmhouse, in a bare little space with a pallet on the ground for a bed.

He couldn’t deny that it was humiliating at first, but more than that, it had been humbling. With all those surfaces stripped away, it enabled him to see more clearly than ever the most important things in life. His title as king had been simply that – a thing. He was more than that.

His people had followed him on his command, and he was the one who had landed them in this situation, and it was his responsibility to get them out. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter if he lay on a bed of gold of a thin pallet. His sacrifice was worth it.

This was his life, and this was his fate. No matter how the cards fell, he was thankful for all of it. Even the terrible, painful parts.

But there was a small part of him, buried deep down inside, that wondered how much longer and how much more he would have to sacrifice.

He had no more to give.

He dropped down onto the pallet, his knees folding under him, devoid of all strength. Now that the door was closed, he no longer had to pretend. This was the price of being fucked four times in the space of twenty-four hours despite two years of abstinence, and he had little cause for complaint, because he had willingly asked for it to happen.

He found some painkillers and dry-swallowed them.

Not once had he considered that he might have actually met with Sephiroth again. While he sometimes had recurring dreams of the silver-haired demon swooping down on him, he had never once feared Sephiroth would come after him, especially after the first few months when it seemed obvious what his intentions were. The dread had turned to relief, and he turned to what he needed to do.

But he had allowed himself to become complacent. And it occurred to him that was a mistake.

The other thing that he had also discovered was that he was not the only one who still harbored feelings for what they had both shared and lost.

He lay down on the pallet, flung a hand over his eyes. He fell into an exhausted sleep, wondering where his husband was now, and wishing he was by his side.

He dreamt of Sephiroth.

It was all jumbled and confused, incoherent and slippery, and as he slowly emerged into consciousness the dream slipped away like water in his hand. They somehow segued wildly into a memory that he didn’t even know he still held within himself.

It had been a short time after their return from their honeymoon, and a few days after the charity ball where they had danced together on the balcony. He floated along in a haze of bliss and nervy uneasiness.

He had been invited to have lunch in the officers’ mess hall, courtesy of Genesis. When he had gone there, however, he had been pleasantly surprised to find Angeal and Zack there as well. Sadly, his own husband was nowhere to be seen.

Cloud liked Sephiroth’s friends. He found it strange that his husband even had friends in the first place considering how indifferent and reticent he was. But Genesis was irreverent and charming, Angeal was calm and sweet, and combined with Zack’s natural cheer and optimism, Cloud found that he rather enjoyed their company.

Genesis was just discussing the various entertainment options on offer in Midgar City when a shadow fell over Cloud. He looked up to see his husband standing at their table.

‘This is my table,’ Sephiroth said, seemingly apropos of nothing. To anyone else, his words and that tone of voice would be interpreted as cold at best, aggressive at worst. But to his friends, they merely scoffed.

‘Yes, and this is the best table in the hall,’ Genesis pointed out. ‘A good distance from the air-conditioning, far away from the kitchen, and close enough to the serving counters. You weren’t here anyway.’

‘I’m here now,’ Sephiroth said, a blank expression on his face.

‘I see that,’ Genesis said. Then he hopped out of the booth, and scooted over to Angeal, practically sitting on the man’s lap.

Cloud shifted over slightly, and Sephiroth sat down.

After a beat, Cloud moved his half-eaten lunch tray to Sephiroth. To his surprise, the man began eating.

‘You don’t usually eat here anyway,’ Genesis pointed out. ‘I don’t get why you get your own table if you rarely eat here.’

Sephiroth ignored him and kept eating.

With a snort of disgust, Genesis turned back to Zack and was trying to explain to Zack in an aggravated voice the difference between a play and a musical. Zack was sweet and harmless, and never took offense to what Genesis was saying and how he said it.

Cloud pretended to listen too, but he was distracted by the way the length of Sephiroth’s thigh pressed against his. In a tentatively experimental manner, he rested his hand loosely next to Sephiroth’s hand, their pinkies touching, trying to pass it off as a seemingly accidental gesture.

Sephiroth did not flinch or move his hand away, but on the other hand he did not respond either.

But when he had finished his food, he pushed away the lunch tray. And then while the three of them were still preoccupied with the debate on watching a movie at home versus the downtown cinema, Sephiroth’s hand moved to cover Cloud’s.

After lunch, they had parted with their friends at the SOLDIER First Class Offices. And instead of going back to their respective floors, they took the elevator back to the apartment. They had fucked, of course. That much was no surprise to the both of them. Cloud barely remembered what happened. He just knew it was quick, and it was filthy.

But when they went back into the elevator, Sephiroth had pressed a kiss on his lips. It was affectionate, and it was easy. And it was enough for Cloud to sense that Sephiroth did not want to part from him. It felt like a victory of sorts, and it lit the beacon of hope inside of him that perhaps their angry words on the wedding night would no longer be true.

Perhaps there would be a change of mind, and a change of heart.

But then Cloud’s world had come crashing down around his ears, and everything had gone to hell after that.

And perhaps that was what hurt the most. The potential between them squandered, scattered like the ash on the ground left on where Nibelheim Castle used to stand. 

Cloud pulled himself into a sitting position and checked the time. It was late at night, too late to go for a run. He was tempted to go back to sleep for the rest of the night.

He shuffled downstairs, glad to see that the living area was empty. He wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone about his adventure in Mideel. He briefly perused the small pile of notes and reports from the last few days he had been gone.

Then suddenly, without warning, a fat tear plopped onto the paper. Appalled, he brushed it away with his finger, and ended up smudging the ink. Furious with himself, he shoved the stack away from him and folded his head into his hands.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He wasn’t a pathetic, lovelorn teenager. He was an adult who had too many responsibilities to think about so useless.

He got up and paced silently.

What was he even hoping? What was he holding out for?

With a soft cry of rage, he ripped out the plastic pouch he wore around his neck so aggressively he practically punched himself in the chin. Eyes blurred and anger overcoming him, he fished the neatly folded piece of paper out of the plastic.

Enough was enough. This thing had held him back for far too long. Whatever that was between them had been long gone. Even Sephiroth had accepted it. He had allowed Cloud to live his own life regardless of his decision. He was a free man, tethered only by this paper he refused to destroy.

He held the paper over the flame of the burning candle.

And yet he didn’t hold it nearly close enough for it to catch.

He was so angry with himself. The rush of fury that flushed through his veins was so potent that he nearly curled into a ball on the ground. He was fucking pathetic. It wasn’t Sephiroth that needed him all this while. Cloud was the one who couldn’t live with him. He hated that knowledge, that truth that he tried to run away from and had failed constantly.

‘What are you doing?’

Cloud spun around to see Tifa standing in the hallway, where her gaze was fixed on the piece of paper he held between his fingers.

‘Nothing,’ he choked out, then folded it back hastily and gripped it in his fist.

Tifa came closer. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, unable to stop the stammer in his voice. He had been caught in the act, and now that incriminating piece of evidence was in his shaking hand. His heart was pounding in his chest, he wondered if she could hear it.

‘Cloud,’ she said. Then she bridged the two steps to him so quickly and closed her hand right around his. The steel in her well-honed muscles meant that her grip was almost vice-like. She stared him in the eyes, never once blinking, boring into his as if she could will his submission. ‘We’ve been through thick and thin together. You would hide this from me?’

Cloud clenched his jaw. ‘Tifa …’

‘Whatever it is, I’ll keep an open mind. I promise.’

He opened his hand.

She gingerly took the sheet and opened it. Surveyed it for a moment, distress in her beautiful face. ‘You didn’t destroy it. Is he still after you? Is this why you’ve been so upset?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he choked out. ‘I’m so sorry. Please. Here, give it to me. I was about to destroy it.’

Tifa eyed the piece of paper carefully, as if afraid that it would combust spontaneously. ‘No … no. Let me think about this. Shit, do you even know what this means for all of us?’ The anger and fear in her voice was clearly evident.

He couldn’t even meet her eyes. ‘Tifa. Please, I can explain.’

‘I will hear it,’ she said. ‘Just not now.’ She walked away and disappeared back into her bedroom.

The next few days passed in a strained silence.

Tifa deliberately avoided him, and Cloud was too ashamed to seek her out and demand the piece of paper that he had claimed to have destroyed a long time ago.

He threw himself back into the work, tying to stem that rising panic in his chest every time he thought about what Tifa was holding onto and when it would all come crashing down around his ears. And he had no doubt it would, he thought grimly. Tifa may not be quick to temper, but she could certainly hold a grudge. He was sure she was sharpening her axe as time ticked along, and all he could was wait.

And it didn’t help that every moment of his downtime when he wasn’t worrying about the existence of that piece of paper, his traitorous mind conjured up the thoughts of the man he had met in Mideel.

The feel of his skin under his touch, the scent that he had known and loved. His strong and unflinching gaze, those arms that felt like they would never let him go.

Sephiroth had been right. It had never been his choice to make. It was Cloud, all along. He had held his own happiness in the palm of his hand and he had squandered it.

And he was deathly afraid that this second chance would never come again.

He asked himself what he really wanted. And the answer so stark and obvious he was almost ashamed of himself.

Four days had elapsed and it was late evening by the time he trudged back to the farmhouse. And instantly, he knew that something was about to go down.

They were all sitting around the large, wooden dinner table, waiting for him. Every single member of his personal and professional council. He braced himself. He had already lost his crown. Was he now about to lose his regency?

He had made that table himself. It was one of the first things he had put together. It was coarse and rough around the edges, lacking finesse. But it was sturdy and tough, meant to withstand the travails of time. Each joint was lovingly welded into the next, and he had worked on it for so long that he knew every crease and grain of the wood.

They quieted down as he walked in.

Wordlessly, he took a seat at the only empty space at the table. His spot. He didn’t even want to gauge the atmosphere in the room. 

And when he looked up, he locked eyes with his mother, who sat directly opposite him. His heart sank.

‘We need to talk,’ Tifa began firmly, steel in her voice. She tossed down the signed page of the tributary agreement on the table.

Cloud sighed. ‘I know. Go on. Would you like an explanation?’

‘Start by explaining why this wasn’t destroyed,’ Barrett suggested. Although, judging by the thunderous expression on his face, they were probably back to ‘Mayor Wallace’ now.

Cloud knew he could not bluster his way out of this. He was resigned to giving them the answers that they wanted, and being raked over the coals. There was just something inside of him that was truly weary, unbearably tired of his own deceptions. Seeing Sephiroth again just brought those existing vulnerabilities to the surface.

‘I couldn’t bring myself to do it,’ he said simply.

‘Was it a souvenir of sorts? Or an insurance policy?’ Terrius asked.

‘It was neither,’ Cloud said tiredly. ‘I just couldn’t destroy it. My marriage … meant something to me.’

‘If it did, why didn’t you just run back to him before he sacked your kingdom and burned it to the ground?’ Tifa asked, her voice clear, her words brutal.

Cloud stopped breathing for a moment. Her words fucking hurt, and hit him right in the gut. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing then,’ Cloud said. ‘Regardless of my feelings for him. I did what I had to do fulfill my duty to the kingdom. I did my best, regardless of how I felt. You’re my oldest friend, Tifa, and you’re a sister to me. Please don’t throw that in my face, not when you don’t understand the sacrifices I’ve made.’

Vincent put a placating hand on Tifa. ‘Did something happen in Mideel? You met him.’

He couldn’t even look at the alarm and fear on their faces. He wanted to sink into the ground in shame. ‘I did.’

‘Did he threaten you again?’

‘No.’ Cloud took a deep breath. ‘He’s made an offer to rebuild Nibelheim. We merely have to sue the empire for reparations and they are prepared to give us what we need.’

There was a mild uproar around the table. Outrage and anger and shock and surprise from all of them.

He lifted his hands. ‘Let me explain further. There are no strings tied to this offer. He regrets his actions, and this is merely recompense. I have personally considered his offer, and I want to take it. Our finances are not endless, after all. And he does owe us this. It will be a while before we manage to even have a steady stream of income coming in.’

‘His money cannot replace our losses,’ Terrius said angrily.

‘And he’s not aiming to do that. What we are focused on now is building our home,’ Cloud said.

‘If he is willing to make reparations there is no reason why we should not pursue this,’ Vincent said.

‘I think that’s a foregone conclusion,’ Tifa said. ‘But it’s the other course of action that I believe we all have trouble reconciling. Were you hoping to go back to him?’

His silence and refusal to answer said everything.

‘You can’t do this, Cloud,’ his mother said.

‘Oh, mother,’ Cloud sighed quietly.

‘How could you?’ Her accusation hung in the air.

Cloud breathed in deeply, fought back the despair that roiled inside of him.

‘This was the man who burned down Nibelheim,’ Cid said. ‘Let’s not forget that.’

‘He burned it after we abandoned it,’ Cloud said wearily. ‘Let’s see it for what it was.’

‘How could you have feelings for a man like that?’ His mother asked.

He closed his eyes.

The silence that hung in the air weighed something. It felt like it was crushing the air out of the room. They waited for him to find the right words, but he found that he had none. All he had was the truth, and it was neither rational, nor coherent.

‘How could I not? None of you ever knew him personally. I was the one who spent my day and nights with him,’ Cloud finally said.

‘Fuck. Why didn’t you say anything? Back in Nibelheim?’ Cid asked.

‘Why? Would you have believed me if I had told you? Would it have mattered?’

‘But—’ Tifa began, stricken.

‘You were happy with Aldrich. From the moment we all met, you only had eyes for him. You loved him with every inch of your soul. Why can’t it be the same for me?’

‘You can’t compare the both of them,’ she said, almost angrily. ‘Your husband’s a terrible human being. Aldrich … was nothing like that. He was kind and sweet, and loving—’

‘And Sephiroth is like that too. But none of you know that. Aldrich wasn’t perfect, but you loved him, Tifa. I can’t help my feelings. You had your chance with Aldrich. He might have left you a young widow, but you had so many years together. Do I not deserve the same chance?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Not with him, right?’ Cloud pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Anyone, but not that man.’

‘And I am sure you can understand our objections?’ Vincent said.

‘Of course. Between me and Sephiroth, there is nothing but a foundation of a month buried under a pile of rubble. Do you think I don’t know better than any of you here that I can’t go back to him no matter how much I want to?’ His declaration broke down into a sob at the end.

Pathetic.

He had never been so humiliated, so embarrassed in his life. His feelings were all laid bare to these people.

But it was his truth, and he could no longer conceal it.

He hunched over the table, burying his devastated face into his hands. His breaths hitched quietly. He hadn’t wanted to cry. He never wanted to cry in front of anyone else. He had managed to hold it in for more than two years, but now a single encounter with that wretched silver-haired bastard had broken him until he was nothing but a puddle of emotions and raw pain radiating from every pore.

He just wanted all of it to stop.

Why did it feel like he had been forced to choose between his love and his duty, every fucking step of the way?

‘And still, despite everything. I want to go back to him,’ he said so quietly, but in the silence of the room, it echoed like a scream. ‘I know that you will object. But my destiny with him hasn’t ended, and our feelings for each other … are still strong. I want to pursue this. This piece of paper means nothing at all.’

He pressed his palm to his reddened eyes. ‘I have no more to say,’ he said. ‘I submit myself to your judgment, to whatever punishment you deem appropriate.’ Cloud got to his feet, took the couple of steps to the kitchen drawer and grabbed a box of matches.

He came back to the table. Struck the match. Gently pushed the corner of the worn, well-loved agreement into the flame, where it caught instantly.

Flames ate away at the edges of the paper, charring them until there was nothing left but ash. He tossed the little corner that he held onto the surface of the table, and they all watched it burn.

He sat quietly on the patio while the debate raged from inside.

It was a kind of blessed relief, in a way, to be completely out of that circle. He had admitted his intentions, and it was now out of his hands what they wished to do with him.

He listened the incessant clicking from the crickets, and the coolness of the evening breeze as it turned chilly.

At some time during the evening lull, Vincent and Barrett stepped out. ‘It hasn’t been decided yet,’ Vincent said, when Cloud looked up.

He nodded, and returned his gaze to the faraway lights of Midgar. Even from here, they lit up the sky like a beacon.

Vincent and Barrett took a seat next to him.

Vincent lit up a cigarette, and offered one to Barrett and Cloud. Barrett took one, but Cloud abstained. It had never been a vice of his, really.

‘A weakness of mine, I’m afraid,’ Vincent said.

Barrett grunted.

Cloud gestured for them to go ahead.

‘A long, long time ago,’ Vincent began quite suddenly. ‘When I was your age, Cloud. There was a woman in my life. She was beautiful, and so clever.’ He flicked his lighter and lit the cigarette, and took a deep drag on it. ‘I fell for her when we first met. Gods, I don’t even know how to describe her beauty. It was unearthly, to say the least.’

Barrett grunted again. ‘The best ones usually are.’

‘It didn’t work out between us. We were just so busy with our own work, and it fell apart. She left me, and ended up marrying the man she dated. A fellow scientist of hers. They had a child together in Nibelheim, and then one day she upped and left.’

There was a thread of pain in his voice, so tangible and heavy even with the blanketing of the years. ‘Too late now, of course, but … I wished I had known that I would never be able to love anyone beyond her. I would do anything to get her back. If there was the slightest chance of returning to Lucretia … there’s no doubt what I would have done.’

He blew out a breath. ‘But that’s all gone now.’

Barrett quietly smoked his cigarette. ‘That’s sad.’

Vincent glanced briefly at Barrett. ‘You had your wife.’

‘Best damned thing that ever happened to me,’ Barrett said. ‘Would not have changed a thing despite how little time we had. And she gave me the most beautiful gift of all.’

They sat quietly for a while, and Vincent stubbed out his cigarette. ‘I’m sorry for all that’s happened.’

‘It was all my fault,’ Cloud said quietly.

‘No,’ Vincent said. ‘Not all of it. I knew your feelings, and I chose to turn a blind eye to it. I thought you would get over it in no time at all. I didn’t think it mattered.’

‘I didn’t think so either,’ Cloud said.

Vincent got to his feet. ‘I’ll plead with them on your behalf. It’s not looking good, though, if you must know.’

‘I know.’ But it wasn’t going to stop him.

Barrett shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘What else is new? This prick always does what he wants,’ Barrett complained, but there was no heat in his voice. ‘Motherfucking selfish asshole.’

Tears pricked at Cloud’s eyes. ‘I know.’

‘Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?’ Vincent asked. ‘No matter the consequence, no matter what happens?’

Cloud’s voice when he spoke shook with emotion that he was practically stammering.

‘I want it. I want to go back to him.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was such a pain in the ass to write. And to rewrite. Twice because it sucked balls and now there are no more balls to suck and you get it in its full shitty glory. And I have no doubt with the unhealthy dose of angst, it would have been a pain for you to read too. 
> 
> Text DICKHEAD if you're feeling the urge to punch me in the face. 
> 
> Text POMEGRANATE if you just want these two to get their shit together. 
> 
> Text VACUUM if you eat angst for breakfast. 
> 
> We are almost at the finish line, people! Thanks for sticking with me, and if you tune in next week I promise less angst, more progress! Maybe! I don't know! Fuuuuuck


	25. Chapter 25

Sephiroth came to a complete halt, and told himself hold still. In the whirling snowstorm, he forced his hearing to expand, taking in the wild howling and every other sound beyond that. His mind processed every little anomaly that came past, until it seized on one heavy tread of steps coming from behind him, and he spun around, bringing Masamune up in time to clash metal against another’s.

Sephiroth recognized that strength, that specific vibration – heavy and quick before he looked up at that startled face. A twinge of annoyance thrummed through him. ‘Fair, you idiot,’ he barked. ‘We’re on the same team.’

Zack’s laughter glided right through the whirling mist and snow and the pressure on his katana lessened. ‘Sorry, Sephiroth!’ Zack called out, then took off running in the same direction he came from. He shook his head, then refocused his hearing again. In this thick blizzard, he could see nothing, so he had no choice but to rely on his ears. For a moment there, he longed for the days back then when he had enhanced hearing, thanks to the monthly mako injections. But he had put a permanent stop to that program the day he destroyed the labs in the Tower, so that was that.

His body moved instinctively the moment he heard that familiar buzzing sound that accompanied a high-level Thunder spell. He evaded in time only to see a massive fireball pelted his way, and he raised the katana to flick it aside or it would have made a hole in his face. Then that buzzing was back, and this time it glanced off his right arm, creating a massive wave of static that forced him to leap aside, then another two steps back as Angeal’s Buster Sword cleaved the air right in front of him.

He despised being caught off guard, and knowing that they had succeeded in doing so merely made an amused chuckle escape him as he concentrated on fending off Angeal’s heavy strokes. He was well and truly entertained. But this was a fight he had to abandon, as he heard the buzzing again, and this time, a fireball so close to his face that he felt the heat as it flew past.

Later, when the spar ended, they collapsed into a heap near the observation platform. Zack was curled up on the ground, complaining of the pain in his back that had been inflicted by one of Genesis’s over-the-top Firagas. Aerith sat there, patiently healing him with a low level spell, her free hand patting her husband’s arm affectionately.

‘Maybe if you were watching where you were going it wouldn’t have hit you,’ Genesis said, examining his fingernails.

‘It hit me in the back!’ Zack retorted.

‘Well, then whose fault was that?’ Genesis said airily.

‘Yours,’ Zack pointed out.

Genesis shrugged. ‘Well then, my bad,’ he purred smugly, looked at the ring on his finger. It was the ring that Sephiroth had picked up on behalf of Angeal in Mideel, and right now he kind of regretted it. The ring, while ornate and beautiful, had also a very pure piece of mako synthesized to it, and it had the ability to cast high-level spells despite its size.

When Angeal had proposed to Genesis at last, everyone had heaved a sigh of relief when he had accepted. In fact, Genesis had been over the moon. But whether it was because of the prospect of marriage, or that pretty little thing on his finger that could fire full-sized Firagas, Sephiroth did not know. Maybe more of the former rather than latter, but Sephiroth could not be totally sure.

Now that Genesis was happily engaged, he was back to his strutting, smirking peacock personality, instead of the moping, outrageously flirtatious depressive who had literally used the following sentence on his circle of acquaintances at least twice over – ‘I’ll leave you in peace if you let me suck your dick.’

At any rate, Angeal had done something – or said something – that had finally helped calm Genesis’s inner slut and he was, after so many months of suffering, pleasant to be around again. And now that he was about to be married, he was a lot more generous and kind.

A week after his tour of the eastern continent had ended, Sephiroth found his apartment being visited by the motley crew of people he had compartmentalized in the ‘friends’ category, with Genesis proudly, unabashedly in the lead. He had known instantly from the mixed expressions on their faces that Zack had told them exactly what had happened down in Mideel.

Sephiroth didn’t mind after a while. Once he got over his irritation, he found that the combined noise and cheer, as annoying as it was, was also rather distracting. It beat the idea of him sitting around, his mind sometimes moving toward melancholy when he thought of a certain blond. He was disciplined enough for the most part, but he was human enough to occasionally sink into that temptingly warm pool of sadness.

Aerith had been the one who proposed the group sparring session. The emerald cabochon earrings swung from her ears, and she cheerfully proposed the details. Angeal looked on with some concern, while Zack was beside himself trying to interrupt her. ‘What do you mean, you’re joining us in the spar too?’ Zack said, nearly shouting in panic. ‘You’re pregnant, flower lady!’

Aerith gently rolled her eyes. ‘I know that, darling. Now calm down before you give yourself an aneurysm. The observation platform is out of bounds, right? I’ll be safe there.’

‘It’s safe. But even if we don’t aim at you, the platform is not entirely foolproof. I’ve seen enough cadets accidentally run onto the platform out of sheer luck,’ Angeal interjected. ‘Instead of getting hit with a spell, what if one of us is dumb enough to run into you? Or fall on you?’ 

‘Then I’ll make sure I have a barrier in front of me at all times,’ she said reasonably. ‘It’ll be fine. I’m pretty good at it.’

And as the four men in front of her absorbed this proposal, it actually occurred to them that it made sense. Sephiroth became quite enthusiastic about the prospect for a three-on-two spar. Aerith would be able to participate with her challenging magic skills while basically remaining invulnerable, and he would get to fight all three of his esteemed sparring partners at some point – all in a session.

It had been shockingly fun, Sephiroth found out for himself. He felt challenged too, in a way he hadn’t been in a while. His sparring partners were all highly competent swordsman or magic users, and in some cases, both. For their first spar they had drawn lots, and Sephiroth had found himself unwittingly teamed up with the pup.

‘Yeah!’ Zack cheered, and Sephiroth nearly rolled his eyes. ‘We’re going to hit this thing out of the park!’ he crowed. ‘We’re fighting two weak sauce old dudes,’ Zack grinned, earning well-placed kick to the shin from Genesis. ‘Ouch. What?! It’s the truth.’

‘You’re forgetting that we have Aerith on our side,’ Angeal reminded him. ‘She can fry your ass on a good day, and then Genesis can toast you when you’re done. Don’t take us for granted,’ Angeal warned Zack.

‘I won’t!’ Zack laughed. ‘I’ve got Sephiroth on my side, and we all know that he’s a great sidekick. He’s a great ass-kicker!’

‘I’ll kick your butt myself if you don’t shut up,’ Sephiroth muttered, and began doing his warm-ups. Aerith took a comfortable spot on the viewing platform, sitting on a low, thick cushion that Zack had brought down for her. She activated a high-level Barrier spell.

Genesis fired a fire spell at the barrier. The spell burned out and dissipated into thin air. Zack squawked in concern. ‘Genesis!’ he yelled.

‘Oh, pipe down, Fair. I was just testing to see if the barrier would hold.’

Aerith eyed him with a smug smile. ‘You wait until we’re on different teams, Gen.’

‘Yeah, Genesis! She’s going to smoke your ass!’ Zack called out.

Genesis pulled out Rapier. ‘Let’s begin already,’ he said, a sadistic grin on his face. ‘I can’t wait to murder this insolent pup.’

Their first sparring session had ended up in a draw of sorts. Sephiroth understood and accepted that it was almost impossible to determine winners when they were all so close in skill. It was more for the thrill of it than anything else. And it had taken a surprising amount of energy and strength from all of them to draw out the battle for as long as it did.

Aerith nudged Zack. ‘I’m hungry, babe.’

Zack jumped up immediately, and retrieved a large wicker basket. From the deep depths he whipped out a large blanket, then all manner of boxes. Zack placed them reverently and neatly across the blanket, before popping the lids. There were eggs, vegetable sticks, pies, sandwiches and pastries. The three men stared with dumbfounded surprise as the spread was revealed to them.

‘Please tell me you didn’t go to the trouble of making these,’ Angeal said, concern furrowing his brow.

‘Oh, no, not at all,’ Aerith said cheerfully. ‘The shop was invited to a flower convention yesterday. They’re all leftovers.’ She looked at Zack, who was now tugging off his wet t-shirt to change into a fresh one. Her eyes glazed over. ‘Gods, you’re hot, Zack.’

‘Yeah?’ Zack said, his voice suddenly turning husky.

There was a brief silence in the air.

Genesis’s jaw dropped open. ‘What?’ Then there was realization in his eyes. ‘Right. She’s horny ‘cos she’s pregnant.’

‘Oh,’ Angeal said. ‘Um.’

‘Yes, she is!’ Zack said smugly. ‘I’m being jumped a couple of times every day.’

‘I didn’t need to know that,’ Angeal said.

Zack pointed to his abs. ‘You like this, babe?’ He flashed his torso at all of them, and started doing what he assumed was a dirty dance before Sephiroth picked up his clean shirt and threw it at him.

‘Put it on right now. That’s an order.’

‘Awww,’ Zack pouted, but obeyed.

‘Awww,’ Aerith said while she continued to make eyes at Zack. ‘You’re a killjoy, my lord.’

Sephiroth averted his eyes.

‘That’s a lot of leftovers,’ Genesis cleared his throat and said suspiciously as he eyed the food on the mat, but he sat down and helped himself to the food anyway.

‘Well, obviously, because I helped her pack them,’ Zack said, mouth already full. ‘Waste not, want not.’

There was something comical about the idea of the vaunted and popular General Zack Fair frantically cramming leftovers into takeaway boxes, and Sephiroth was amused.

Zack stared at him. ‘Don’t do that,’ he said.

‘Do what?’ Sephiroth asked, startled.

‘That thing. With your face.’

Genesis looked over. ‘It’s called a smile, Fair. What, you think Sephiroth is some kind of alien from outer space? He’s human. Of course he smiles.’

‘I’ve seen him smile. Like, an evil villain smile. Nothing like what he’s doing now. It’s weird.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, pup. He has more than the insane, evil smile in his repertoire, you know.’

‘He doesn’t do it very often,’ Zack said, doubt etched across his face.

Sephiroth ignored them. ‘How are you feeling, Aerith?’

She looked up at him, her new earrings still swinging from her ears. Completely inappropriate for sparring, but then again, she was basically invulnerable. ‘Good. I’m just hungry all the time,’ she said. As if to prove her point, she chomped down a triangle sandwich in two bites.

He pushed the box of sandwiches closer to her. ‘Nice work on the Thundaga spells.’

She beamed at him. ‘I know. I think I actually managed to hit you with one of them.’

He lifted his right arm in concession to her skill. He listened as the four of them conversed among each other, eating and chatting happily. He was more than a little impatient to get back to the actual sparring, but he understood this was part of the social contract he had basically signed up for. He found himself in a relaxed, pleasant mood. Then he glanced to the empty space to his right.

And he had to fight to return to his neutral mood, where he was balanced, neither happy nor sad. He had nearly two weeks to absorb and process what had happened between him and the man who was very much still his spouse.

It had been like a fever dream conjured by a sick man.

Yet he could have sworn he could smell Cloud’s skin, the feel of those skinny limbs under his touch, and the way he would arch his back as if he could draw Sephiroth deeper inside of himself.

He closed the lid on those thoughts. There was no point dwelling on them. It had been a last ditch attempt anyway. Cloud had made up his mind a long time ago.

He threw himself into the next spar, which was a different kind of challenge. He was grateful that his friends were doing their best to distract him from his current conundrum. They had drawn lots, and now he was paired with Aerith. He knew her magic was unparalleled and could draw them away with her magic, but she could not parry the three others with their massive swords, who would be undoubtedly gunning for him in a most aggressive manner.

He smirked at Genesis, who practically sneered at him. He lifted the hand that wore the ring, flashing it at him, showing off and threatening in the same gesture.

Zack hefted his sword over his shoulder, and jutted a hip. ‘Maybe you should start running, old man.’

Sephiroth chuckled darkly, and swung his sword downwards, tipping his head to signal to his three opponents that he was ready.

Hours later, they had adjourned to the officer’s mess hall. It was past the usual time for breakfast, and too early for lunch, so they practically had the place to themselves. And yet, despite that, they had crowded him into his usual table.

‘I thought we already had breakfast in the training room,’ Sephiroth pointed out.

‘This is morning tea,’ Zack said. ‘Anyways, my wife is starving.’

He did not see why he had to remain in his seat when he had already finished off his breakfast of egg and toast, with a tall glass of vegetable juice. But he was unfortunately stuck, because Genesis sat next to him, barricading him against the wall. Unless he wanted to physically move Genesis or leap over the table, it looked like he wasn’t going anywhere.

‘So how are the plans coming along for the wedding?’ Zack said. Angeal groaned. ‘What? Was I not supposed to ask?’

Angeal sighed.

Genesis sat up, a sparkle in his eyes and a wide smile on his face. ‘It’s going great. And don’t forget, the engagement party is set for this upcoming Saturday.’

‘Of course we won’t forget!’ Aerith beamed.

‘How can we, when you can’t stop talking about it?’ Zack said.

‘Excuse me,’ Genesis snarled, but Zack stopped him with one lifted hand.

‘I mean, I’m so freaking excited! The idea of the open bar is great, but best of all, the re-enactment of the play!’

Genesis mellowed out immediately. He had managed to convince the entire cast of Loveless to stage his favorite parts of the play as entertainment for the night of their engagement. It was going to be a massive party, and it seemed like he had invited half of Midgar. Sephiroth would have happily skipped it with no qualms whatsoever, but this was his best friends’ party. He was also a groomsman at the wedding. Genesis would have him drawn and quartered before the end of the night if he didn’t show up.

Genesis reached across the table to hold Angeal’s hand. ‘It will be a fun night, my love,’ Genesis assured him. ‘Don’t be so intimidated. All our friends are coming because they want to celebrate our good news.’

Angeal smiled weakly. Sephiroth could see while Angeal was not one for big, loud parties, his love for Genesis would carry him through the night. And with a little sigh, Sephiroth knew his affection for his best friends would carry him through as well.

‘What would you like as a gift?’ Aerith said, licking the yoghurt off her spoon. ‘Something shiny? Something pretty?’

Sephiroth sat up straighter. He was supposed to get a gift?

Genesis laughed. ‘Whatever you think we would like, my dear. But you really needn’t bother, darling. Just the presence of the glorious proprietor of the Tower’s flower shop is good enough.’

‘So does that mean I have to get you a gift?’ Zack joked.

‘Yes,’ Genesis pointed at him. ‘I’m still your boss, kid. You better get me the biggest, nicest gift or I’ll fry your ass on Monday morning.’

Zack laughed.

‘You think I’m joking? I’m going to assign you the nastiest monster infestations, the ones where you come back stinking and draped in monster guts. You just go ahead and try me, Fair.’

Zack protested loudly, and Sephiroth made a mental note to tell Cill to get an appropriate and expensive present for the party.

It was a fairly pleasant morning, as weekends went. When Genesis had finally relented to letting him out of his seat, he had swiftly exited to the mess hall. He sauntered into his office relaxed and in a neutral mood, looking forward to demolishing the mountain of paperwork now piled up on his desk. The shut-down of the final reactor had been complete, and Midgar was no longer producing any mako. His next project was to begin the scheduled, gradual shut-downs of all other reactors across the continents. It was a huge undertaking, and would take the best of the next five years in order to achieve it.

Cill looked up at him. ‘There’s a package for you on your desk, my lord. Since it was anonymous, it was screened before they released it. But it looks like a bunch of building plans from an unknown source. Perhaps you will know more about it.’

‘Building plans?’ Sephiroth frowned. They weren’t building anything new in Midgar, not unless they counted the renovation of the public park in Sector Four. He had no idea whatsoever. ‘I’ll take a look at it,’ he promised.

He sat down at his desk, and picked it up. It was an ordinary brown envelope, large and thick. The front was addressed to him in a neat script. There was no letter inside addressed to him. He looked through the documents in order to get an idea of what the entire package even was.

They did look like building plans of a township of some kind, surrounding a farmhouse. The location of this town seemed to be slightly east of Midgar, maybe about an hour or two away. He frowned. That land was currently unoccupied, if he remembered correctly. There wasn’t much by that way. Maybe an orchard or two, a few farms, but really nothing of note. It was on the stretch of highway leading to Chocobo Country, and it might see only a few hundred tourists a year.

Behind the floor plans were a list of price estimations and required resources, and then a budget of sorts, and he was trying to figure out what it was. Did he ask a project manager to send him this information? Then why was it anonymous? He wasn’t building anything, and did not ask for any quotations. So what was this?

Just as suddenly as it baffled him one second, he realized what it was in the next.

He had offered his help to Cloud in Mideel. Reparations, he had said. For his sins in destroying Nibelheim. He looked down at the plans again. Was this what it was?

He perused them for a little longer, in this new light of realization, then contacted the chief engineer of Midgar for a meeting. He would send her, and a team of highly skilled engineers to liaise with them at the proposed location and then take it from there. They would have full rein for whatever resources they would need, he would see to it. He had made a promise to help, and he would fulfil it, willingly and eagerly, even.

But his heart pounded madly at the thought there was the slightest possibility of what it meant – if Cloud was willing to ask him to contribute to the rebuilding of Nibelheim, would that mean that he could also be considering the idea of returning to Sephiroth’s side?

It wasn’t a guarantee, not at all. His offer had no strings attached, and it was meant to absolve Cloud of his burdens. But that did not mean he didn’t still hold out that faint thread of hope, a seed that germinated deep within him. But still, his mind reminded him that it was necessary to temper that hope just so the eventual disappointment would not overwhelm him.

And yet, the day seemed to look a bit brighter, and he considered himself marginally more cheered.

His week leading up to Genesis and Angeal’s engagement party was uneventful. After the blip that was Mideel, his peace had been shattered temporarily, and it took a while for him to adjust to the regular rhythms of his own life again. It had been pleasant, peaceful, even, especially contrasted with the sheer frivolity and insanity that was the party.

For starters, Genesis had banned him from wearing his usual clothes, instead demanding that he wear the outfit that had arrived at his apartment that morning. That was where Sephiroth had drawn the line. He had been given marching orders for his groomsman outfit, one that matched Zack’s, apparently, and he had accepted it. It was a pill that he would reluctantly swallow. But that was for the wedding.

He had stared down at the rectangular package with the ludicrous red bow over it. When he had uncovered it, he had clenched his jaw in disgust, and had replaced the lid without hesitation. Once he had caught sight of the ruffles, he decided he had seen enough. He did not understand why Genesis was trying to cook up increasingly brutal and insane methods of torture.

As a concession to his friends, he decided to pull on his military jacket, the one he usually wore for all official events that required formalwear. His favorite outfit was his leather jacket coat and his pants, but Genesis clearly hadn’t liked that. His military jacket with its silver braids and austere black was very formal, but it beat ruffles any day.

He held it, and his mind tipped him back to a little over two years ago. Cloud had nestled his blond hair against his chest, and his fingers had stroked the silver braids, rubbing it gently between his fingers. And he had said simply, ‘I like you in this outfit.’ And those eyes had looked up at him hungrily.

Sephiroth snapped out of that memory. He was stunned at his own lapse in attention. It did not happen often. But there was something about that vivid recollection that startled him. It had been almost like Cloud was standing there next to him, his voice clear and his presence strong.

It was merely wishful thinking, he thought. And that loneliness was suddenly so intense that it almost took his breath away.

But he got dressed, strapped Masamune to his side, and headed out.

The party was even worse than he had feared.

He had left at the perfect time – not too early that he would be forced to suffer through the early boredom of a party establishing itself, but not too late that it was considered rude and unforgivable. When he had arrived, the party was in full swing.

The grand hall that they had rented was dressed in crimsons and golds and deep blues and blacks, various fripperies draping from the ceiling and over the furniture, seemingly hundreds of couches arranged in a haphazard manner that would probably be considered artistic in circles of people who actually cared about these things.

The stage that the couches faced was massive, and Sephiroth stared at it in incredulity. Was Genesis actually considering putting on a performance alongside the cast of Loveless? Was he planning to make a grand spectacle out of his engagement party? And if he did, what the hell would he do on his wedding day in order to top it?

Sephiroth stood there, staring, when Angeal sauntered up to him.

‘Congratulations,’ Sephiroth said.

Angeal’s face was glum and apprehensive. ‘Could you possibly sound more enthusiastic?’

Sephiroth turned his gaze back to the stage. ‘No.’

‘Here, take this,’ Angeal handed him a glass of champagne. ‘Hold this. You look awkward when you stand there like that without anything in your hand.’

Sephiroth waited a beat. ‘I prefer it that way. I do not partake.’

Angeal shoved the glass into his hand. ‘I do not care, Sephiroth,’ he hissed. So Sephiroth held the glass, and looked at his friend.

‘Are you all right? You seem … tense.’

Angeal sighed. ‘It’s just … it’s just this night. It’s big and it’s loud and it’s over-the-top. Gen has so many surprises up his sleeve tonight. And it’s just putting my teeth on the edge.’

‘This is Genesis, though. He’s always been …’

‘Flamboyant?’ Angeal supplied.

‘Ridiculous,’ Sephiroth finished.

‘Yeah, that too,’ Angeal said, almost distractedly.

Sephiroth listened carefully to what was not being said in that slightly concerned tone of his. ‘You’re not having cold feet, are you?’

Angeal considered it. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Right.’

‘Right,’ Angeal said. Then he continued speaking, as if he felt that he needed to explain. ‘It’s worth it. This whole … party is worth it.’

‘Is it?’ Sephiroth raised a brow.

‘Yes,’ Angeal said. He sighed. ‘Well, no, actually. But Genesis is worth it.’

‘Right.’

‘I know he isn’t easy to deal with.’

‘No,’ Sephiroth affirmed. ‘I do not think I would be able to live with Genesis and his … quirks.’

‘He’s a good man, Sephiroth. He might be halfway to insane town, but he’s soft deep down inside where it counts. He’s loving, and he’s generous, and he’s … everything I dreamed of since we were kids together. He’s just … he’s just … my heart? You know?’

‘Aww,’ Genesis said, slipping in between them and tucking his arm into Angeal’s. Sephiroth saw the way Angeal’s gaze warmed, all his apprehension seemed to melt away in that moment. ‘Angeal’s being so kind. I thought he was keeping me because he likes the way I deep-throat his massive cock.’

Angeal choked on his drink. ‘Gen!’

‘I did not ask,’ Sephiroth sighed pointedly.

‘I thought it would be nice that you knew,’ Genesis said, smiling lazily at him. ‘I think it’s what you deserve for not wearing the suit I ordered for you.’

‘Are you two happy?’ Sephiroth asked.

‘Yes,’ Genesis said, even as Angeal pressed a light kiss to the side of his head.

‘Then I am happy for the both of you,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Congratulations on your engagement once again.’ He pulled out a gift from his pocket, and handed it to Genesis.

‘Thank you,’ Genesis said. ‘What is it?’

Sephiroth shrugged. ‘You’ll see.’ He had instructed Cill to order in a set of matching cuff-links that he thought they could choose to use with their wedding suits.

Genesis handed his glass over to Angeal, and then ripped open the box with a sort of insane glee. He opened it, then gasped in startled delight. ‘Sephiroth! This is beautiful!’ The cufflinks were made out of platinum. They were miniature versions of Genesis’s Rapier and Angeal’s Buster Sword crossed over each other, and he had them specially commissioned and designed.

Sephiroth looked at the tears in Genesis’s eyes, and took a step back. ‘Please. Let’s not.’ But it was too late. Genesis had pounced at him in an open-armed hug, and Sephiroth held himself stiffly.

‘Thank you,’ Genesis said. Then he wiped away his tears and perked up. ‘I love the gift. And I’ll have you know that I have a wonderful surprise waiting for you this evening.’

‘That’s all right,’ he said, extricating himself from Genesis’s suffocating display of affection. ‘I do not generally enjoy surprises.’

‘You will like this one,’ Genesis said, and winked at Angeal. ‘Trust me. Have a seat, Sephiroth. Enjoy the food and drink, the music and the atmosphere. The show will begin shortly.’

‘Must I,’ Sephiroth said flatly.

‘Yes, my dear, you must,’ Genesis reached up on his tiptoes, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and sauntered away. ‘Come, Angeal! We must entertain our guests!’ he commanded imperiously.

Angeal slung an arm over Sephiroth. ‘Hang in there, friend.’

‘What is this surprise?’ he asked, mild dread in his chest. ‘He’s not going to make me sing or something incredibly stupid like that, right?’

‘Nothing like that,’ Angeal smiled.

He exchanged pointless small talk with Cill, Tuesti and Scarlett, trying to broach work at one point, even though it was obvious they were in high spirits and he could sense that they were in no mood to talk shop. The only one that he really actively avoided was Kunsel, whose harebrained ideas left Sephiroth with a deep distrust and very possibly deep hatred for that man.

He kept an eye out for the green-eyed goddess and her pup, but could not find them. The grand hall was simply too large, and there were too many people giving him a wide berth and shooting him curious glances. They would tilt their head in respect as they passed him, but for the most part, his forbidding demeanor meant that he was left alone.

After that, they made the announcement that the performance would start shortly, and that the guests should take their places on the couches. Sephiroth eyed those poufy, crimson couches, and immediately dismissed the idea. He picked a spot in the back of the room, and ordered himself to relax. Once the performance was over, he would make his excuses and head for home.

At least the performance was riveting. It was beautifully done, and a rather faithful rendition of the book that Genesis loved so much. In the darkened room, he shut his eyes, his ears listening carefully to the words that he could recite by heart.

Then the last line of Act III was uttered. ‘ _Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return_.’

Then the curtain descended, sweeping the entire room into darkness. The roar of applause was thunderous in his ears, and Sephiroth felt a sudden movement on his right side rather than saw it.

It was so close that his left hand instinctively hovered above Masamune. But he belatedly remembered he had been standing close to the door, and it was probably just a guest walking past him during the intermission. 

Then a hand slipped into his gloved one, and his heart stopped.

He opened his eyes, and stared down into those familiar blue eyes, that soft spiky blond hair that defied gravity.

It was not a dream, nor a figment of imagination conjured in the darkness of the room.

‘Surprise,’ Cloud said, a tiny, shy smile tugging on the corner of his mouth.

And his heart started beating again, its movement started by a flood of an unspeakable, unnamable joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the story is coming to a close - and that you now know where it's going, this is a good time for me to thank you for having stuck with me for so long. 
> 
> If you've suffered through the angst, got ragey at the rage-inducing bits, and felt sad at the tear-jerking bits, the next two chapters will be your reward because it's full of unabashed, cheesy bliss as we tie up all the loose ends. 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos. 
> 
> Thank you for the hits. 
> 
> But most of all thank you for the comments. They've shocked and amused and elated and energized me, and I am eternally thankful.


	26. Chapter 26

Cloud followed Sephiroth’s lead. The taller man held his hand in a vise-like grip, forcing him to take more steps in order to keep up with his longer, hurried strides. There was a silent urgency to what they were doing, but he held on, gripping that familiar, buttery softness of his glove. He had just enough time to note that Sephiroth had managed to maneuver them into an empty service corridor, before not-so-gently pushing him up against the wall.

Those two long arms imprisoned him there. That long waterfall of hair moved so close that the piercing, jade-green eyes honed in on him.

‘Are you real?’ Sephiroth asked, his voice so soft and hoarse that it startled the both of them. ‘Why are you here?’

Cloud was at a loss to explain. Where did he even begin? But Sephiroth did not even let him answer, and instead, began firing questions at him. ‘How long will you be here for? A day? Are you back for good?’

With a tremulous sigh, Cloud stretched his arms up and encircled Sephiroth’s neck. ‘I’m here as long as you’ll have me.’

Sephiroth stared at him.

Cloud stared back, drinking up the sight of this man. That cold, indifferent visage that he had dreamt of for two years.

Sephiroth moved swiftly, and pressed their lips together. The entire length of his hard body was pressed up against Cloud’s.

‘I’ve missed you so much,’ Cloud said so softly that for a moment he thought Sephiroth hadn’t heard him. He felt those fluttery kisses along his cheek, trailing down his jaw.

‘Are you back for good?’

He opened his eyes, and his mouth sought Sephiroth’s. ‘Yes,’ he said.

He didn’t care if it was gauche or tasteless, the way Sephiroth picked him up. Cloud locked his ankles around his hips, knowing that he was safe in Sephiroth’s arms. He didn’t want to part with the man, not even for a second, and he didn’t care if anyone saw him being carried down the darkened hallway where the muted sounds of applause still echoed through the empty corridors. He pressed his nose against Sephiroth’s neck, scenting him, as if he could barely believe he was here.

With this man.

He barely paid attention to where they were going. There was a brief elevator ride, a long walk, when suddenly, they were bursting through the door of that lovely little apartment that they had once shared. Sephiroth kicked the door closed behind him.

Cloud stumbled as his feet hit the ground, then Sephiroth yanked him up by the elbow and righted him. They tumbled into a bedroom on the left. It had been Sephiroth’s room from two years ago, that spartan-looking little space with the plain bed and the familiar notches above the wall.

Had he slept there instead of the bed they had once shared?

They shed their clothes before they even reached the bed, stumbling and tumbling and tripping until they were in each other’s arms, their skins gloriously free, hips and crotches grinding up feverishly against each other. He gasped as the pleasure of the produced friction was enough to narrow his vision and render him light-headed.

He was back.

He was here.

Judging from the way the pressure was building in his stomach and the way his shaft was so hard it was verging on painful, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long. There would be time later for slow, languid love-making, but now he needed the release that came with the adrenaline and the joy before he lost his mind.

‘Hold me,’ he gasped, feeling a burst of static when Sephiroth’s arm curled around his bare waist, yanking him close. Cloud hadn’t prepared himself, and his ass wasn’t even halfway close to ready. So he settled for the next best thing, and grabbed both cocks in his hands, and stroked them both with a madness that he knew was reflected in Sephiroth’s green eyes.

He could feel those long graceful fingers making imprints on his skin, punishing and holding on at the same time. The raw friction helped spark punishing ripples of pleasure down their spines, stroking them closer to completion. And when it finally came, Cloud screamed his release, and Sephiroth grunted his own into Cloud’s shoulder.

All his muscles trembled, tensed before relaxing, and he slumped in Sephiroth’s arms. He waited until his heart resumed its regular beating rhythm before he even attempted to speak. Despite the sticky mess on each other’s bellies and chests, Cloud pulled him closer for a hug.

‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he said again, this time in a trembling but audible voice.

‘Don’t you ever leave me again,’ Sephiroth said.

‘I won’t,’ Cloud said, his eyes fluttering closed.

He opened his eyes and stared straight into the pair of jade-green eyes staring at him, filled with a deep hunger and something else he couldn’t quite place. Cloud lifted a finger and thumb to capture a tendril of that long silver hair, and let the pads of his fingers gently drift down the length of it.

He had slept wonderfully through the night, and every time he had woken up in confusion he only had to catch a glimpse of the silver head next to him, and those arms that both imprisoned and clung to him were a physical reminder of where he was.

In the full glare of the morning light, he thought it was time to get up, get moving. But not for the next five minutes, at least.

He turned his face into the pillow, and onto his stomach. Closed his eyes again. Opened them when he felt that weight on his back.

It was like being ambushed by a wild animal. Sephiroth’s body covered his, his not-insubstantial weight pinning him down against the mattress. He loved that feeling of being weighed down, and he wasn’t sure how he had managed to forget it in the span of the two years they had been apart from each other.

He closed his eyes and relaxed, enjoying the sensations of Sephiroth’s insistent mouth planting kisses down his entire back along his spine. Light as a feather, and twice as ticklish, it felt like he was worshipping the expanse of his skin with his mouth. He felt gooseflesh prickling on his sensitive thighs, and the beginning of hunger – but not for food.

There was the quiet pop of a lid, then a deep liquid warmth spilling down his ass.

Sephiroth kneed his thighs apart, wet lubricated hands parting his cheeks only to tease against his puckered hole. The first finger that eased into him was clenched at instinctively, only then to release it so it could explore his insides. The second finger following, stroking in and out slowly, giving his body time to accept this invasion.

His body bloomed.

By the time the third finger was inserted, Cloud’s thighs were trembling with need. The pull in his belly was deep and primal. He wanted more. He needed more. He braced himself on his elbows, moaned his pleasure into the pillow. Raised his hips in invitation, and planted his knees apart.

Wanting. Waiting. 

Sephiroth did not make him wait too long. He withdrew his fingers, and Cloud hissed sharply, feeling the loss rather acutely. There was the sound of more lubricant being slopped onto skin, and then he felt the girth of Sephiroth’s cock slowly ease in. That first contact as he fully thrusted in was so intensely pleasurable and painful that he whimpered and clutched at the pillow like a drowning man.

Sephiroth adjusted his stance, shifted to the left just a little, braced his weight on his knees, and pulled out and slammed in so quickly that Cloud would have been plowed into the pillow if his head wasn’t there already.

‘Fuck,’ he choked out, barely catching a breath before Sephiroth withdrew and thrusted in again, almost every stroke slapping against his prostate, setting up a vigorous, punishing rhythm that refused to let him up for even a second.

He screamed into the pillow as Sephiroth fucked into him, and Cloud’s knees buckled uselessly. But those strong hands hauled his hips up, keeping him in place. Pain and pleasure erupted inside him, and before he could even plead with Sephiroth to slow down, he was already coming, moaning helplessly as he rode the cresting waves.

He was jolted out of that mindless aftershock of bliss when he realized that Sephiroth was still behind him. Inside him, still invading, still taking, still fucking.

His body wanted to collapse into a sweaty, exhausted heap, even though he had done none of the work but to brace himself against the onslaught. But those brutal hands held him still, and there was no escaping it no matter what he did. So he surrendered, and his body thrashed to life again, sending all the blood rushing downward until he was pulsating and needy and ready to go again.

Sephiroth’s mouth bit into the tender flesh of his neck, hard enough to leave a mark but not painful enough to break skin. He felt like a pliable object becoming increasingly molded to the shape of their passion, and he was nothing but sensations and feelings, a beacon of pleasure that shone so brightly until it blinded him. Then he heard that whisper in his ear. ‘Come for me, my love.’

And his body exploded with the light of a thousand suns, ripping the orgasm out of him and leaving nothing but a staggering, shaking husk behind, his ears still ringing from that casual endearment while his body was being used so ruthlessly. He had been so wrecked he had not even felt Sephiroth come inside of him. It was only as the feeling returned to his nerves he realized that come was leaking out of his ass and down his thighs. But by now, they had collapsed onto their sides.

He rolled his nose into the pillow and took a deep breath. ‘If you ever do that again, I’ll stab you with your own sword.’

A beat. Then, ‘Does that mean you don’t want me to do it again?’ Sephiroth asked.

His mind raced back to the breathless moment of the sweet deluge of pleasure that wracked his body. ‘Well, I’m not saying that,’ he said archly, and he felt rather than heard the chuckle that was pressed into the lightly dewy skin on his back. Then a nip that sent shudders down his spine had him yelping.

He managed to crawl out of bed eventually, and poured himself into the boiling hot bath, crawling over and into Sephiroth’s arms, partially for comfort, but also because he knew for sure that Sephiroth would hold him up and prevent him from actually drowning. Steam fogged the bathroom mirrors, and he drifted in and out, luxuriating in the little kisses and nips that Sephiroth bestowed upon his skin.

There was a comfortable silence between them, neither brave enough to tackle the subject at hand of why and how he came to be here. They simply accepted that this was the present, and were eager to remain tethered to each other by physical touch alone.

Cloud’s gaze lazily swept over the bathroom walls, and then to the clock hung high above. The hour indicated it was close to noon. ‘Aren’t you going into work?’ he asked drowsily.

‘No.’

That woke him a little. ‘What?’

‘I’m not going into work today,’ Sephiroth said.

He leaned back, content to let Sephiroth stroke lazy circles on his chest. ‘What happened to the famous workaholic general? Last I checked, he left at dawn and returned at nightfall, every single day without fail.’

‘A lot’s happened since two years ago,’ Sephiroth reminded him, and that thought was sobering. He tensed for a moment, wondering if Sephiroth was making a dig at him, then relaxed when none came.

‘It has,’ he conceded.

Sephiroth’s fingers ran up and down the length of his neck. ‘And your pendant is gone, I see.’

‘It is,’ Cloud said.

Sephiroth did not push. Instead, he asked a different question. ‘When did you get back?’

Cloud sighed, and cast his mind back to earlier in the day. He arrived Midgar early that morning Disguised properly, he had vacillated in front of the Tower, suddenly too fearful, and too apprehensive about meeting Sephiroth again.

To his own surprise, his feet pounded the familiar path to a different apartment, and his finger pressed the doorbell. He pushed back his cloak.

The door opened to reveal him in his full crimson glory, his expression one of complete disbelief and shock. ‘Cloud,’ Genesis breathed. ‘What—why—are you here?’

Angeal, who was passing behind Genesis, froze on the spot. He looked equally dumbstruck. ‘Prince consort!’

‘Hi,’ Cloud said shakily. ‘Could I … could I come in?’

To their credit, they had politely invited him in, got him to sit at the couch and pushed a mug of tea into his shaking hands. They gave him a moment to recover. It felt completely surreal to be back in Midgar again. He didn’t even know why he was in Genesis’s home. In fact, out of all of Sephiroth’s close friends, Genesis seemed the least likely to be compassionate towards his presence.

And yet he had been the one that Cloud had instinctively sought out.

Perhaps it was because he was the one who had handed him the lifeline back in Nibelheim so long ago. He thought, of all the four, Genesis had known Sephiroth’s heart the best. But that did not mean he was likely to be kinder, and it showed in the questions that he pelted Cloud like a hail fire of bullets. ‘Are you back for good?’ he asked shrewdly. That had been his first question, and Cloud knew Genesis would not be generous.

‘Yes,’ Cloud said honestly. ‘I am trying, at least. There is a still a great many things to work but I have chosen to return.’

‘Why?’ Genesis’s question was so blunt that even Angeal flinched.

Cloud evaded his gaze. How could he even begin to explain that he was finally following his heart? After all the pain they had inflicted on each other? Whatever that he wanted to say, it all sounded painfully trite.

Genesis took his silence as weakness. ‘Do you know how much he’s suffered the last couple of years? All because of you, and what you chose to do?’ It wasn’t even an accusation, it was a statement.

But Cloud could feel the jab sting. ‘I understand. I know. We both made mistakes. I made … so many. There has not been a single day that’s passed by that I don’t wish I could have done things differently, but … I also have to accept that it is what it is. I can’t change any of it.’

‘Why are you here then, despite what Sephiroth did to your nation?’

‘I …’ Cloud began.

‘Are you here to reconcile with him? Can you even forgive him for what he did?’

‘Yes,’ Cloud breathed, and it was the truest thing that had ever left his lips. He had to forgive Sephiroth, in order to forgive himself and what he had done, for his part in how his kingdom fell. He wouldn’t have been back otherwise.

‘Your capacity for forgiveness is remarkable,’ Genesis said, his tone barbed with disbelief and insult. Angeal raised a hand to rest on Genesis’s shoulder, and Cloud did not miss the easy intimacy between the two men.

He tried to let the insult roll off his back. ‘I wouldn’t be back unless I wanted it. It cost me too much – in every way possible. But I don’t want to live like that anymore. I didn’t follow my heart back then, and I made too many mistakes. I want to think it will be different this time.’

‘Then why have you come to me? To us?’

‘I was afraid. That he might have moved on. That it was too late.’

Genesis listened carefully. When he spoke again, it was calm and measured. ‘That idiot’s been enamored with you for a long time. What makes you think he would have moved on in a matter of weeks when it took him the best part of two and the half years to get over you?’

He wasn’t surprised that Genesis knew of their meeting. Sephiroth’s friends had always been protective of him. But his words assuaged the wordless fear inside his heart. Because he knew that it would be true poetic justice to have Sephiroth spurn him, just when Cloud was finally ready to reciprocate. ‘That’s good to hear. I was … afraid.’

Geensis leaned forward, his expression tight and intense, almost verging on a quiet, barely restrained anger. ‘Please listen to me, Your Highness.’ The reversion to his official title did not escape him. ‘I have the utmost sympathy for the both of you and the circumstances you found yourself in. But I have watched the two of you savage each other, and do unspeakably terrible things. To yourselves. To your people, and to each other. I have seen the consequences on Sephiroth’s side. Granted, I have not seen yours, but I am sure it wasn’t a joyride for you either. So I will not sit back this time and watch the two of you tear each other to pieces again.’

Genesis’s ferocity struck him. ‘This … is not my intention,’ he said so softly it was almost a whisper. ‘I never meant for any of it to turn out that way. I will spend the rest of my life atoning for what I did. For my people. For him.’

‘This is your second chance. Yours and his. And it is yours to squander. I’m not taking sides anymore.’

‘I understand,’ Cloud said.

Genesis eyed him for a stark, uncomfortable moment. As if he was trying to ascertain the falsehood in Cloud’s words. As if he was trying to see if Cloud was deserving of this second chance.

And he suddenly realized that this was why he had come to Genesis in the first place. Deep down inside he knew Sephiroth would take him back without a question, but he felt uneasy about his decision. He needed a gatekeeper, someone who would tell him so starkly the truth of the matter – that they had fumbled their first chance with each other, and this was their second, and final opportunity to make things right. To live the life that he wanted. To love this man.

This was his final reminder to consider if this is what he truly wanted.

And by the gods, he wanted it so badly. He couldn’t go back to change the past, but he wanted to build a future together, and love unreservedly.

Genesis walked to him, and got onto his knees, in an echo that cast him back to two years ago, when Genesis had come to him outside Nibelheim Castle.

Oh, how he wished now he had heeded Genesis’s wisdom back then. How much heartache would he have avoided?

‘Then I wish you two nothing but happiness,’ Genesis said. ‘He’s waited for a long time, and I am so glad that you found your way back to him.’

Cloud nodded weakly. ‘I am, as well.’ Then without warning, he burst into tears.

These days, he was like a leaky faucet whose emotions hovered way too close to the surface. He turned his head away, wanting to hide his embarrassing tears into his hand. But Genesis didn’t even try to pretend to not have seen it.

‘Angeal!’ he yelled, his expression stricken. ‘Shit, I made him cry.’

He felt Angeal step forward, put a careful, warm arm around his shoulders, pressing some tissues into his hand. Genesis wrung his hands a little. ‘Don’t cry, darling. We’re in your corner too, you know. We just want the both of you to be happy. It’s clear that you two are mad for each other.’ Genesis’s expression brightened, as if an idea just struck him. ‘And I think I’ve just thought of the best way to reveal your presence to him!’

Angeal groaned. ‘None of your crazy ideas, please, Gen.’

‘It’s not crazy if it works,’ Genesis retorted. ‘This is destiny, Cloud. You returned at the perfect time. The engagement part is on tonight.’

‘Whose engagement?’

‘Not his, if that’s what you’re worried about. No one else wants to marry him, Cloud. He’s too surly and reticent to be considered a catch. Unlike me, however …’ Genesis lifted his hand, shoved his finger with the massive ring in Cloud’s face.

‘Yes, you’re beautiful and sparkling,’ Angeal said.

‘It’s your engagement party?’ Cloud asked.

‘Mine!’ Genesis crowed.

‘Ours,’ Angeal corrected.

‘You’re … engaged to each other?’ Cloud asked, blinking in bafflement. He hadn’t even known that they were together.

Genesis interpreted his surprise correctly. ‘We started dating right after your wedding. Well, I say relationship, but we really started off banging first—’ Angeal clamped a hand against Genesis’s mouth, muffling the rest of what he was about to say.

‘Gen will tell you our love story another time, but long story short, we’ve been dating for a while. I asked him to marry him, and he said yes.’

Genesis scowled at him and swatted his hand away, but Angeal caught it. ‘He’s been asking for years, and I finally said yes.’

‘That is my luck, as well as my good fortune,’ Angeal said, pressing a kiss to Genesis’s outstretched hand. The easy affection had Cloud envious.

If Sephiroth and Cloud both took this second chance, they would be braver. More courageous. More open, less prideful.

‘So here’s the plan,’ Genesis began.

Back in the tub, Cloud noticed the tiny smile that played around Sephiroth’s lips as he recounted the conversation. ‘Was it a good surprise?’ Cloud asked.

Sephiroth blinked, then slid a hand underneath Cloud’s jaw, cupped his cheek. ‘It was the best.’

Cloud flushed in genuine pleasure, and turned his body so he could reach around to kiss him.

They soaked lazily in the bath until the water turned cool, then Sephiroth bundled him up in a thick warm towel. He stretched gently, feeling the soreness in his ass and thighs. In bed, they simply held each other.

They ate brunch in bed, picked at the food, talking about everything, and nothing at all. Cloud knew sooner or later they would need to have the awkward, painful conversation about the full truth, and the shape of their future together. But for now, neither of them wanted to be the one to break the tenuous peace that seemed so hard-earned.

They made love languidly and easily, and slept curled around each other.

But when dinner arrived just as the sun was setting beneath the horizon, he knew that the time was nearing. He wanted to put the facts out there. They got dressed simply, Sephiroth in a black shirt and loose pants. He rarely wore that around the house, mostly because he was always at work. Cloud borrowed a large shirt, and wore it over borrowed underpants. He was ready for a quiet night in, content to merely soak up Sephiroth’s magnetic and reassuring presence.

Sephiroth gestured for Cloud to sit at the dining table. Cloud looked at the silver cloche covering the food. ‘What’s this?’ He glanced up at Sephiroth rather slyly. ‘Did you arrange this?’

Sephiroth merely blinked. ‘Yes.’

‘What is it?’

‘What do you think it is?’

‘Something rich. Expensive, maybe. Trying to keep yourself in my good graces, I assume?’

Sephiroth chuckled rather honestly. ‘I trust that it’s working?’ There was a small smile that played around his lips, and he quirked a silver eyebrow.

‘You definitely know the way to my heart,’ Cloud teased, then lifted the cloche in anticipation of the finest aged steak, the freshest seafood, a feast for the senses. Instead, his smile dropped off when his gaze landed on the uncovered dish.

‘You do not like it,’ Sephiroth stated. ‘Allow me to—’

‘No,’ Cloud said. ‘No.’ He bit his lip to stop it from trembling uncontrollably. ‘I love it, I really do.’ He stared down at the silver soup tureen filled with steaming hot, spicy Nibel stew. It was hard not to look past what he had lost, and the stew had been representative of that. His kingdom, his people, his marriage.

But he knew Sephiroth’s heart now. The man was simple in his outlook, despite his complicated past, and his unforthcoming personality. He lifted a spoon and scooped up some to his lips. He felt his heart constrict. ‘It’s delicious.’

It was. It was hearty, savory and spicy.

‘Courtesy of James down at the Wall Market,’ Sephiroth said carefully, even as he eyed Cloud uncertainly. ‘I am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘No, I know that,’ Cloud said, but even as the words left his lips he felt his chin tremble. Sephiroth got up immediately, scooped Cloud up into his arms.

‘What’s wrong then, little cat?’

‘Nothing,’ Cloud said, and laid his head against that broad chest. Sorrow swamped him, alongside its best friend regret, robbing him of his breath. How many mistakes had he made out of hubris and pride? That they had both made? They had wasted so much time making poor decisions rather than admit their own feelings. They could have spent the last two years loving each other, laughing and living and thriving.

Instead, they had a ruined kingdom, a displaced people, and two broken hearts that did nothing but hemorrhage for two years. The schism of distrust and anger had eroded away at their blossoming love, and it was a fucking miracle that they still had any left. There was so much to rebuild, and the bridge between them would have to be re-forged, with patience, and time.

He still felt that old, familiar hint of anger towards his own brother, tinging the wave of grief that still haunted him at Aldrich’s untimely death. If Aldrich hadn’t died and left him the throne, he might still have been happily living out his own life in Midgar, knowing that his destiny with Nibelheim had ended the moment he took his ending vows. Instead, he had fought for duty and the desire to continue Aldrich’s legacy, choosing instead to subsume his heart and his own desires. And in the end, it had all crumbled in his hands anyway.

‘Talk to me,’ Sephiroth said patiently.

So Cloud did. He told him about the magnanimous deal he had struck with the small council. He would remain the regent of Nibelheim still, but the day-to-day administrative matters would be transferred to the council. They had agreed to sue for peace in an official capacity, and make claims for reparations. They would request the empire to repay their debts by buying out Nibelheim’s astronomical loans owed to Wutai, and continue supporting them with whatever resources they needed for the next ten years.

Cloud was fairly certain Sephiroth would be amenable to those terms. But there was one condition he was a little nervous about because he did not know how Sephiroth felt about it. With the transfer of some of his powers, Cloud would be able to travel freely between Kalm and Midgar, which was only about two hours away. He promised to stay in Midgar two weeks out of each month, with the rest spent in Kalm.

But he knew the people who had loved him had fought for these conditions as best as they could, and he intended to make the best of it. After being informed of their decision, Cloud had heaved a shaky breath of relief and had excused himself.

His knees weakened and he leaned against the wall for support, which was the only reason why he even heard the next exchange. 

‘It doesn’t feel right,’ the first voice said, and to his eternal disappointment, it was his mother. ‘Terrius? Cid?’

‘But in the end we all agreed, Claudia,’ Vincent reminded her.

‘I may not like it, but this is Cloud’s personal life. It’s out of our administrative domain,’ Terrius sighed.

‘We can warn him, but we can’t stop him,’ Cid said. 

‘They won’t be happy,’ she said. ‘This is the man who destroyed us. Cloud may be able to forgive him but I cannot. And I can’t see how any of you can. Cloud deserves better.’

‘He doesn’t need our forgiveness,’ Tifa said. ‘Cloud has sacrificed everything for us. Maybe it’s time we do something for him. And he needs this. He’s pleaded for it.’

‘He’s a simple kid,’ Barrett said. ‘Let it go, Claudia. Don’t you remember being young and being in love? Let the boy have his chance. If he wrecks it it’s all on him.’

Vincent sighed. ‘He just wants your blessing. Even if you can’t give it to him, we can give him this.’

With trembling hands and legs, he managed to make it to his bedroom before he fell to his knees. He genuinely couldn’t believe that they had said yes. It felt like he had gotten away with murder. He knew his mother was particularly disappointed, and had seen the look on her face. Worry and disapproval.

But he had gotten what he wanted.

He had sobbed into the shiny lacquered wood floor. It was nothing fancy, but he had lacquered it himself. Blood, sweat and tears, mired in his own sorrow and pain. Not once had he imagined that he would have gotten here.

It was like a dream come true.

Cloud silently accepted the clean, white handkerchief that Tifa handed to him. He pressed it to his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m truly sorry. I didn’t know.’

‘There’s no need to be sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want anyone to know.’

He got to his feet, and accepted her embrace. Tight and loving and apologetic.

‘Go,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘I hope you will be happy.’

He hated defying his mother’s wishes, and how everything was still uncertain. So many things had to be worked out, had to be seen through. But he knew he had to follow the call of his heart.

And he had. When his feet touched down on Midgarian soil, he knew he had done the right thing. It would all work out. They would find a way.

But this time, they would do it together.

He lifted his head now. ‘It’s just been a rough few days. I love the NIbel stew, thank you for thinking of me.’

They sat down to eat, and Cloud was acutely aware that Sephiroth had yet to pronounce his opinion about Cloud’s living arrangements in two different places. He braced himself, and Sephiroth seemed to sense it, deciding to put him out of his misery.

‘So two weeks here, and the rest in Kalm?’ Sephiroth clarified.

‘Yes,’ Cloud said. ‘At least, until my nephew reaches the age of majority. This is the deal I have accepted in order to resume my life in Midgar. Are you … is this acceptable to you?’

He thought Sephiroth might be bitter, or annoyed. After all, this was once the deal he had rejected. But all he said was, ‘I would rather have you two weeks a month than none at all.’ He straightened. ‘But let me make you this promise. I will fuck you senseless, and love you until you lose your mind, so when you are away, all you can think of is how soon you can get back into my arms.’

A shudder ran through Cloud. It was both a dark and delicious promise, and he knew now, that Sephiroth always kept his promises.

‘But may I ask you a question?’ Sephiroth said.

Cloud lifted his head.

‘Where is your pendant?’ Sephiroth asked. He knew what he was really referring to.

Cloud dropped his eyes. ‘It’s gone,’ he said. He felt Sephiroth stiffen.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I burned it,’ Cloud said. Some days, he still didn’t know why he had done it. Perhaps to destroy that last legal thread between them so he could prove once and for all that it was his heart he was following. Not obligation, not legality, not duty. And perhaps it was for the best to have that last connection that had brought them so much pain destroyed.

So they could begin anew.

They continued their dinner in contemplative silence. He knew Sephiroth was trying to process it all, and he wanted to give him the space he needed.

They retired to the balcony after dinner, and Sephiroth slid a glass of dessert wine in front of him. He drank it gratefully, glad for the fortifying properties of alcohol. He could not sense much from Sephiroth, neither approval nor disapproval, and that made him nervous.

‘I know why you did it,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Why you destroyed it.’

‘I had to know for sure. How I felt.’

‘Then do you know how I feel?’ Sephiroth asked.

Once upon a time, Sephiroth hadn’t loved him. He had refused to love him. That had been the first crack in their marriage, and everything had piled up on it, widening the cracks until they cleaved cleanly in two.

‘I do,’ Cloud affirmed.

Sephiroth sighed, then reached over for his hand. Cloud’s gaze dropped down, and he watched as Sephiroth slid the wedding ring he had sold in Mideel on his ring finger. He covered Cloud’s hand with his larger one.

And on the third finger of his left hand, was his own half of the pair. ‘I said a long time ago that my heart belonged to someone else. I didn’t realize that it would make up its own mind, and find its home in you. I did not know that you would consume my mind and soul. It might be late, but no less true. I am yours, Cloud. Today, and tomorrow, and a hundred years from now.’

Cloud flung himself at Sephiroth, loving the way that their bodies fit together, and how Sephiroth’s arms were tight bands of steel around him, a prison of kindness and love that he was content to stay in forever.

They watched the night lights flicker on over the bridge in the grand city of Midgar, like little jeweled lights that rivaled even the brightness of the stars in the sky. He knew that this was their second chance, a strange twist of their linked fates. They would not squander this opportunity again.

There might still lingering matters to iron out, and many people would disapprove, he knew. But those troubles seemed like whispers in the wind for now, and they would deal with them together. In the morning, in the months to come.

All that mattered was that they were finally together.

But for now, he let that feeling of familiarity seep in, and that sensation of wellbeing spread across every cell in his body. He was back where he belonged, in the arms of the man he loved.

He was happy.

And he knew he was home.


	27. Chapter 27

He pressed his back against the wall, listening. Masamune was sure and steady in a loose grip in his left hand. Then the air shifted around him, and his eyes flew open and his hand moved to meet Cloud’s Fusion Sword in mid-air.

Cloud smiled at him, his beautiful blue eyes all lit-up with excitement, alive and vivid. He retracted his Fusion sword gracefully, and winked at him before leaping away even as a massive fireball flew into the space between them, which Sephiroth had to side-step in order for the ends of his hair to remain singe-free.

‘Stop flirting with each other already!’ Genesis’s irritable voice shouted across the arena.

Sephiroth turned to look at him. ‘We are on the same team,’ he said. ‘Why are you firing a spell at me?’

‘Because,’ Genesis bit out indignantly, as if there was a justification for his friendly fire. ‘I saw how the two of you were making eyes at each other. And that irritates me to no end!’ He yelled, then bad-temperedly stalked off, the materia on his bracer already activated and waiting to be fired again.

Sephiroth blinked, then spun around just in time to evade Zack’s vicious slice downwards with his sword. ‘Hello, old man!’ Zack sang out, then hurriedly dodged and ran off even as Genesis’s Firaga missed him by an inch. It came uncomfortably close to Sephiroth, who turned his head to shoot a death glare at Genesis.

‘Stop that,’ he hissed.

Genesis flicked his hair back, and pretended not to see.

There were the ringing sounds of a clash behind him, with Angeal now engaging Zack with his Buster Sword. It didn’t last more than a few strokes, before a blast of cold air hit the spot a couple of steps behind them, and Sephiroth could taste the chill in the atmosphere. Aerith must have fired off a blizzard spell, and then he leapt into the fray, going after Zack. He managed to corner him just before he hit a wall, forcing Zack to turn to parry Sephiroth’s incoming attacks.

Zack’s back was already up against the wall when he ducked down, swung gracefully from under Sephiroth’s sword, and he rolled away with excited laughter. It seemed that the young pup’s strategy for today’s spar was to run, Sephiroth thought to himself with mild amusement. As far as strategies went it wasn’t too bad, but it certainly was quite irritating for the opposing team. He knew what Zack was trying to do – to wear them out by getting them to run back and forth in that huge training arena.

Zack, Aerith and Cloud had formed a team, and had chosen to label their opposing team as the Old Farts. Sephiroth had only grunted and Angeal had laughed good-naturedly, but Genesis nearly had an aneurysm. He was being completely temperamental this morning. At one moment he was in high spirits, and in another he was so strung-out he was one wrong word from losing his temper.

Angeal had pleaded for their understanding. ‘He’s nervous about today,’ he had said, and they had all accepted it with grace. The exercise would help, Angeal was convinced. But as the spar was underway, he wondered if they should all fear for their lives. Genesis was in a foul temper.

Sephiroth caught a hint of blond hair, and ran across arena with a ridiculous amount of pillars obscuring his vision. He caught up to Cloud, closed the distance between them. He turned to swing the Fusion Sword at him. He met it with Masamune, and was pleasantly surprised when Cloud used his weight and momentum against him, flipped his sword to make a stab at him, forcing Sephiroth to parry at the last possible minute and to step back. ‘Very good,’ he said, and watched that beloved face light up in a smile.

‘Enough already!’ Genesis yelled, jumping in to slash Rapier at the both of them. Sephiroth wasn’t sure who he was aiming for, and stepped out of the way. He could hear Cloud’s laughter ringing in his ears as he sprinted away. Cloud rarely laughed, but when he did, Sephiroth enjoyed hearing it.

In the end, the team of younglings with Aerith on the sidelines had forced them to run back and forth. Genesis had called for the spar to stop. ‘I’m not going to wear myself out chasing you little shits around the arena,’ he said, annoyance clear in his tone. ‘I’ve got a big day ahead.’

‘I know,’ Zack said, wiping away the sweat that was currently pouring off his face. ‘Maybe you should have a nap.’

Angeal had to physically restrain Genesis from launching at Zack and cutting him into ribbons.

Sephiroth stepped in. ‘It’s not a bad idea, Genesis.’

Genesis turned to him, annoyed at his betrayal. ‘No one asked you,’ he barked.

Angeal rubbed his hands patiently up and down Genesis’s arms. ‘Come on, love. They’re not saying it to needle you. It’s a good idea. It’s a big day, and we need to conserve whatever strength we can. We can have a tiny nap. Or …’ He bent down, and whispered something in Genesis’s ear. Whatever it was, it seemed to do the trick.

Genesis straightened, and replaced Rapier in its sheath. ‘Well, come on now then, Angeal. Don’t dawdle. We’ve got so much to check in on before tonight, so let’s go have our … nap.’ 

‘Eww,’ Zack said.

Aerith walked up to them. ‘It will all go beautifully tonight, Genesis. I’ve had a peek last night at the venue and it’s gorgeous. Imagine how it’ll look tonight with the addition of my flowers.’

Genesis simmered down visibly. ‘Yes, I hope so,’ he said. Then looked momentarily distracted. ‘But I still have to check on the—’

Angeal gently guided Genesis to the exit, his hands at his elbows. ‘We’ll see you guys soon,’ he said. ‘Don’t be late.’

‘You better not be late!’ Genesis snapped, an edge of panic in his voice. ‘I’ll kill you all—’ And the rest was muffled when Angeal bodily-blocked his fiancé and physically hauled him out of there. 

‘We won’t!’ Aerith called out, and Zack waved. He waited until the door was shut before shaking his head. ‘Man, Genesis is nutty as a fruitcake. He’s not going to make it to this evening if he keeps hyperventilating like this.’

‘He’s just nervous,’ Cloud said. ‘Well, you know what it’s like.’ He tucked the Fusion Sword on his back, and wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow. ‘Well, I suppose we should best head off too, to get some rest. For tonight.’

Sephiroth was already at the door, waiting for Cloud.

‘We know what you’re up to,’ Aerith said cheerfully, and knowingly.

Cloud flushed.

‘Ewwww …’ Zack groaned. ‘Why are all our friends so loved up? Where’s my love?’

‘You’ll get your love when I get a nap,’ Aerith said.

Zack and Aerith waved at them, and Cloud waved back hastily. They walked to the elevators, sweat and heat pouring off them as they cooled down. They took the elevators back up to their apartment, and hurried inside. Cloud dropped his sword on the ground, struggled out of his damp clothes, hopping and tripping until Sephiroth caught him by the waist.

Cloud looked up at him, those large blue eyes sly with a glint of unabashed lust. They pressed their sweaty bodies together, panting even as their breaths mingled. Sephiroth could taste the salt and sweat on Cloud’s skin, and he bit down hard enough on the nape of that exposed neck, eliciting that obscene moan from Cloud’s lips.

His eyes were hazy with desire as he refocused on Sephiroth. ‘So who won that bet?’

Sephiroth gave it some thought. ‘Neither of us did. It was a draw.’

‘The hell it’s a draw!’ Cloud laughed. ‘Genesis surrendered out of frustration, so it means I win!’

‘I suppose so,’ Sephiroth relented. ‘Tell me, what would you like me to do to you?’

Cloud reached up, tugged his hair down gently, and whispered a stream of dirty suggestions into his ear.

Sephiroth chuckled, then immediately complied with the first of many instructions. He threw Cloud over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and hauled him into the master bedroom, which had been reclaimed since his return eight months ago. He flung Cloud onto the bed, and saw those indignant eyes glare at him at the rough treatment.

He picked up the bottle of lube on the way to joining Cloud on the mattress, then uncapped it and poured it down on Cloud’s half-erect cock, and he gasped at the contact. Sephiroth’s hand closed over that cock, and stroked it to full hardness. He watched Cloud’s beautiful body arch its back in response.

It had been quite a few months, and he had now lost some of that harsh thinness and built some gorgeous muscles across his entire body. His other hand danced down to the secret place between those fleshy cheeks, pushed them open and probed experimentally. It was still a little tender and loose from their lovemaking the night before. Sephiroth inserted two fingers in a single thrust, and watched as Cloud’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his entire body tensing up into a stiff bow.

‘Relax, little cat,’ Sephiroth pressed a kiss to that trembling stomach. ‘I thought you wanted it rough.’

Cloud did not answer, whimpering instead as Sephiroth slid another finger into his now wet and slick hole. But he did lift his head as Sephiroth’s fingers stilled in their assault. That short hesitation was enough for Cloud to pull away, plant his foot on Sephiroth’s chest and pushed firmly, until he had vaulted off the bed and reversed their positions so Sephiroth’s back was now against the sheets instead.

Cloud climbed on top of him, his slick ass pressing against Sephiroth’s hard cock. That little tease. With a wicked glint in his eyes, he licked his lips and smirked. ‘I changed my mind,’ he said. ‘Maybe I want to ride you instead. Tell me, my darling. Do you always get this turned on during spars?’ he purred.

Sephiroth looked up. ‘Only when I am around you,’ he said.

Cloud licked a stripe down his now cooling chest. Then he arched back up, grinded down a little. ‘You’ve got the hots for your sexy subordinate here, don’t you? Ever cross lines, General Sephiroth?’

Sephiroth caught on immediately. ‘Yes,’ he said blandly. ‘I want you on your knees, cadet, and sucking me off.’

Cloud burst into laughter. ‘Cadet?? Come on, Sephiroth. I attained the rank of commander in the Nibelheim army once upon a time, I’ll have you know.’

‘Honorary,’ Sephiroth reminded him, then reared up to nip Cloud across the collarbone, causing him to yelp. In retaliation, Cloud grinded again, causing the both of them to break into unexpected gasps.

‘How would you like me then, General?’ Cloud waggled his eyebrows, looking so, so wicked and lustful. ‘On my knees? On my back? With my ass in your face?’

Sephiroth swatted his ass. ‘I already told you. Your mouth, choking on my cock.’

Cloud smiled, then lowered his head down, taking the full length of Sephiroth’s dick into his mouth. His clever tongue licked up and down his entire shaft, the tight heat and pressure of his mouth causing Sephiroth to stop breathing for a few moments.

His gaze followed the line of sight from that spiky blond hair to that ass wiggling playfully in the air, so Sephiroth reached out and stuck his fingers back up that hole, drawing out long strokes and curling them to hit his prostate every now and then. The atmosphere in the room suddenly turned from playfulness to a deep lust, a siren’s call of need that demanded to be fulfilled.

He waited until Cloud finally surfaced, breathless, his mouth red and wet. ‘That’s enough, cadet. Now get on top of me and fuck yourself on my cock.’

Cloud’s breath hitched, and he obeyed. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, and he reached back to push Sephiroth’s now painfully hard dick between his ass, and impaled himself in one swift move. Then those muscled thighs gripped his hips, and he bounced up and down, riding Sephiroth and milking every last bit out of him.

With Cloud hanging over him like a kind of lust-mad demon, that strong and slender body arching up and surrendering to the sensations generated by their bodies stoking each other to completion, Sephiroth thought there was no sight more beautiful than the one in front of him right now.

Then Cloud opened his eyes, those sky blue irises staring straight at him, looking like Sephiroth was his guide and anchor all wrapped up in that generous love, and Sephiroth felt a spasm wrack his entire body as his orgasm was forced out of him. His gaze faltered for a moment, then slowly seeped back. He felt light-headed, like he was floating.

Cloud collapsed onto his chest, and Sephiroth could feel his heart racing underneath his skin. When he managed to catch his breath, Sephiroth stroked a hand over that sweaty back. ‘I didn’t know that you liked role-playing,’ he mused.

‘Well, to be fair, I didn’t know either. But it was kind of sexy,’ Cloud said, chuckling softly. ‘Maybe the next time you work late you can try bending this cadet over your majestic desk.’

That reminded him. ‘That’s right, darling. But why don’t we try bending you over _your_ desk at the farmhouse next week?’

Cloud looked up at him, delight in his eyes. ‘Are you coming down then?’

‘Yes. I managed to clear my schedule for the full two weeks. I’ll bring my work with me, but I wanted to check out with the new town center with you. I’m eager to see how it will pan out.’

For the past eight months, Cloud had been commuting back and forth from Midgar and Kalm. Sephiroth did his best to bridge his absence by joining Cloud at Kalm when his schedule permitted despite all the objections. At first, the Nibelheimians absolutely detested the sight of him, and were only too eager to object to his presence.

But Sephiroth didn’t care about anyone else’s opinion, save Cloud’s. And if Cloud wanted him there, no one could stop him.

Cloud seemed to know that too. The first time Sephiroth had arrived in Kalm, Cloud had quietly received him. Quietly defended him with his own presence, and he stuck like glue to Sephiroth’s side. He had seemed stunned when Sephiroth threw aside his military jacket and started picking up the lumber for the frames and carrying it to the site. But Sephiroth meant what he had promised Cloud. He would help him rebuild, because that was what Cloud wanted. Needed. In all honesty, Sephiroth genuinely cared little for what the others thought of him.

Cloud had wordlessly accepted Sephiroth’s help, and they both worked quietly, and exclusively with each other. Everyone else gave them a wide, wide berth. The first couple of days they attracted a lot of dumbfounded stares, and he prickled under their gazes. But he saw the way Cloud worked quietly, ignoring everything else only to focus on rebuilding his home, brick by brick, and Sephiroth followed his lead.

It wasn’t as lovely as sparring, but the physical labor felt good. There was something cleansing about manual work. Certainly, it felt a little more meaningful than some of the nonsense paperwork that he was doing back in Midgar.

Not only were they spending this time together, it was also worth finding out that his little cat seemed rather affected by Sephiroth’s habit of working topless, having only with his pants and boots on. He was not oblivious to the thirsty gazes from those beloved blue eyes, and more than once he had spent the rest of the night pounding him into the bed even after a physically exhausting day at the construction site.

And then eventually, the people around Cloud cared less and less. Sephiroth simply assumed that he was around too frequently that it was more tiring to bristle at his presence than to just let it go. They didn’t like him, but they tolerated him.

Just the other night he had sat down with Cloud’s small council and his family for dinner. It was awkward and tense as well, but one pleading look from Cloud and he had sat rooted to the chair and finished up his simple meal.

He didn’t care if they despised him. He only needed to feel that squeeze of Cloud’s hand over his.

Although to be fair, not everyone hated him.

When he had first arrived in Kalm, he had been surprised by the presence of a tiny little toddler, who took one look at his long hair and immediately thought it was some sort of jungle gym. He wrestled the kid gently to the ground, and looked into those deep blue eyes.

The same color of a clear sky on a lovely spring day, the same ones of his beloved’s.

He looked up at Cloud, who only had eyes for the child. Of sadness, of adoration. And Sephiroth understood immediately, and the lack of the paternal fondness merely confirmed it.

Sephiroth let the child tangle the strands in his hair until his uncle swooped in to rescue him.

The new town was coming along nicely, supplemented by the generous resources from Midgar. On paper, it seemed that an entente cordiale had been achieved – Nibelheim sued for peace, and Midgar paid for the reparations. To secure these relations, the consort who had absconded, returned to take his place by his husband’s side. Nibelheim, now no longer a tributary nation, but an allied one.

Things seemed to be looking up, especially considering the absolute nightmare that they had stepped into at the beginning, with the first being a joint visit to Kunsel’s office in the department of public relations. Oh, Kunsel had torn them a new one, and the worst part was, Sephiroth had to sit there and stay calm, and fantasize about dismembering Kunsel instead of actually doing it.

Kunsel had gone on an erratic, frantic rant about how irresponsible they were and what kind of public relations crisis this would be to announce to the world that they had chosen to reconcile after the shit that had gone down two and the half years ago.

‘Do you know what this makes us look like? A bunch of quacks and liars, that’s what!’ He had paced relentlessly up at down in his plush office while Sephiroth glared daggers at him. ‘We would have to retract every statement we have ever issued about your relationship! This is a shit show! The public is going to crucify us!’

The only thing that stopped him from unsheathing Masamune was Cloud’s hand over his own, occasionally squeezing for reassurance. And Kunsel’s dire predictions didn’t turn out to be entirely true.

Despite how supremely irritating the man was, Sephiroth could not deny Kunsel was some kind of public relations genius. He knew the pulse of the people, and the whirlwind of tours and appearances in the following months, despite the brutal schedule, had worked wonders in turning the tide of public opinion. Their relationship was cast into the light of a tragic love story with said lovers ultimately reuniting. It was the truth, sprinkled with the heavy handed sparkle and glitter of unicorn shit.

Sephiroth had despised every moment of it, but he had played nice with the public. And it wasn’t so bad when Cloud stood by him at every event. His two weeks at Midgar were always packed to the brim, before jetting off to Kalm to run and rebuild his own country. Sephiroth got tired of being left behind, and did his best to bridge the distance. If Cloud could not be in Midgar half of the month, well, then Sephiroth would go to him.

It only worked because he started delegating even more of his duties, continued the process of decentralizing his powers. Genesis and Angeal were perfectly capable of taking on more, as did the ever unflappable Reeve Tuesti. But most of all, Sephiroth realized that the solution lay right under his nose – by grooming his potential successor, he was able to entrust a lot of the urgent work while alleviating his own burdens.

It turned out Zack Fair was the poster child for the shining future – he was good looking, he was popular, and he had a great temperament. The public fucking loved him and his easy, small-town-boy charm, and Kunsel cast Zack and Aerith as the new golden couple, complete with their chubby-cheeked little baby girl.

Once the child was a little older, Sephiroth would ready Zack to take on more responsibilities, such as doing the tours that he dreaded so much. Zack with his irrepressible, likeable energy and Aerith with her natural warmth and luminous beauty, would do well as his replacements, he decided. And most importantly, it freed up more time for him to devote it to spending it with his spouse, and the massive project he was undertaking – the rebuilding of Nibelheim.

Cloud was clearly very pleased, and he patted Sephiroth’s chest and pressed a kiss to his mouth before rolling over to break contact. ‘We’ve got to get ready soon,’ Cloud said. ‘It’s a big day today.’

Sephiroth turned, clamped an arm over Cloud’s chest and pulled him back in. ‘Where are you going?’

‘To shower,’ Cloud said. Then he smirked. ‘I’m a mess, if you haven’t realized already. I’m sweaty and disgusting and you’ve pretty much covered me in come.’

Sephiroth eyed him. ‘Not all of you,’ he said, and accepted the little smack that Cloud gave him. He let him go, and heard the shower going. Sephiroth gave him five minutes before rolling off the bed. That was probably enough time for Cloud to recover before Sephiroth nailed him to the shower wall.

In the end, they stumbled blindly from the shower and slid onto the bed. Sephiroth threw a blanket down the filthy sheets, and pulled Cloud close to him. And when they woke an hour later, it was a mad scramble to get dressed.

What had happened to his disciplined lifestyle? What was he doing now? Naps in the morning, frantic attempts to get dressed. Cloud barely ran a comb through his hair, and then they both raced out the door and took the elevator down a couple of floors.

They stood in front of the door, and composed their faces into placid expressions, trying to pretend that they hadn’t been fucking the hell out of each other the last couple of hours and then fallen asleep. Genesis opened the door, glared at them. ‘You’re late,’ he spat.

Cloud went into immediate damage control. ‘We’re so sorry,’ he said. ‘But we’re here now.’

Sephiroth wished he wasn’t, really. The next few hours were a direct contrast to the previous two. Where the sparring and sex had been brilliant, and such a lovely use of his time, this … was really not. He would rather be anywhere else but here, and he hated every moment of it.

It dragged on painfully, and he was forced into a stiff suit of deep forest green, its style strangely reminiscent of his official military dress, which he supposed was the look that Genesis was going for. There was an attendant who had to brush out his hair in order to pull it into a long braid, and Cloud had to almost sit on Sephiroth’s lap to keep him there.

He didn’t mind, not really, not when that gorgeous little ass was clad in a deep shade of blue, his suit cut in the same style as Sephiroth’s. It brought out the color of his blue eyes beautifully, and he had to admit that Genesis had some taste there.

They were ready nearly an hour later, and Sephiroth was now in a terrible mood. His hand was now constantly on the hilt of Masamune which was tied into and strapped to his side, and he just wanted to get this over with. Cloud appeared by his side, his unruly spikes tamed into something rather beautiful – still spiky, but much neater and slicker than how it usually was.

Sephiroth could not tear his eyes away from Cloud, but a passing glance showed him that his friends were all dressed to the nines, and primped beyond belief. Aerith looked like she was glowing, and Zack looked handsome. But Angeal … well, Angeal was radiant. He was dressed in a black and white version of his military dress, but there was an aura of serenity and happiness that altered his usual presence greatly. The entire group made its way to the event venue.

By now it was packed to the gills with guests, and the place had been transformed into an ethereal flower garden. The glass ceiling reflected a clear sky, the same shade of his husband’s eyes. And he knew then it would be a good day. He only needed to do his duty, and it would be over quite soon.

They waited for that small window of time – just before the sun began setting, lighting up the clear blue sky with magnificent streaks of orange and pink and red.

He stood with Zack on the right side, Zack a step below him. On the opposite side, Cloud stood with Aerith. Sephiroth held Angeal’s Buster Sword in both hands, its blade pointed straight to the ground. Cloud held Genesis’s Rapier, his stance mirroring Sephiroth’s. He supposed it was a vast improvement over Zack and Aerith, who were left holding flowers. Flowers, of all things.

Angeal stood just in front of Sephiroth, and he could see despite his friend’s calm demeanor, there was an undercurrent of nerves. But that all disappeared when the guests stood, and the orchestral music swelled in the air. Outside the windows, the sky was a flaming, beautiful orange.

And even he held his breath.

Genesis was magnificent as he walked down the aisle, his train of an embroidered crimson cloak billowing behind him dramatically. And Genesis was clearly in his element. His face was held high, glowing with excitement and joy as he only had eyes for Angeal. When he reached them, he extended a hand to Angeal, who took it gratefully, joyfully.

He watched his best friends. With love and friendship firmly at their back, they would be fine. He was sure of it.

Across the way, he watched Cloud blink back tears from those glorious blue eyes. Their gazes locked together, and Sephiroth was thrown back to the day they had gotten married to each other. It was over three years ago now, and yet it felt like a lifetime. The vast chasm that had been in place when they had said their vows had been bridged, Sephiroth felt. But with pain and heartache, sacrifice and duty.

Sephiroth’s eyes flickered downwards to find Cloud again. There was so much he could not say, did not know how to say. All he could do was stare at Cloud, hoped that he could understand what he said with his eyes. Of duty, of devotion. Of promise, and of love.

Cloud smiled in acknowledgement. Sephiroth liked to think that he understood.

And then the wedding ceremony was done, for all the extended build up. The newlyweds led the way with the procession through the streets of Midgar. Cloud and Sephiroth followed a short distance behind, eager to let the happy couple enjoy the spotlight. Sephiroth steeled himself, for the blinding light bulbs from cameras. He held Angeal’s sword still, and it was an incredible pain to do so as they continued the walk. Angeal’s sword was much heftier than Masamune, and his skin itched as he felt all those eyes on him.

But it helped with Cloud walking so closely next to him, their sleeves brushing against each other occasionally. He fielded much of the attention, smiling and waving to the overjoyed citizens. The newlyweds might have commanded the lion’s share of the attention, but Cloud, by the virtue of being who he was, bravely took on the rest of it. He was the Consort Who Returned, and he played the part perfectly. If their focus was centered on him, then there was one less pair of eyes on Sephiroth.

Once the procession was over, the newlyweds were whisked away to enjoy some time together before the reception dinner, which by some impossible method was three times larger than the wedding ceremony. They were ushered to a waiting suite at the Midgar Crown Hotel.

Sephiroth would have used to downtime to fuck Cloud senseless, but Zack was with them while Aerith went to feed the baby. Cloud and Zack got along like a house on fire, and they were now eagerly discussing something that Sephiroth could not be bothered to find out what it was about. For once he did not have his usual sheaf of paperwork with him while he waited, as he had specifically instructed Cill to hold all his work in anticipation of today’s special events.

When Aerith called for Zack to change the baby’s diaper, Cloud scooted over to Sephiroth, leaned up against him. They did not need to speak, merely soaked up each other’s presence. Sephiroth liked the solid weight next to him, and that sweet smell of magnolia oil that clung to his skin. They watched in amusement as Zack struggled to burp the baby, and she cried inconsolably.

Then the baby threw up all over her father, and Cloud jumped into action. Sephiroth physically flinched. 

Aerith came out and cooed as she took over, while Zack stood there with his shirt in baby spew. He stripped down to his waist, and held his soiled shirt with finger and thumb. ‘Someone get rid of this, please.’

Zack met Sephiroth’s eyes, and Sephiroth did not even blink once.

‘Here, give it to me,’ Cloud said, and took it.

Cloud offered to take over for a while. Poor Zack and Aerith looked exhausted. The baby had arrived four months ago and they constantly walked around with shadows under their eyes. They may have been tired, but there was also an inner radiance and joy that shone from them. Sephiroth looked at Cloud as he dealt with the fussing baby.

He felt a sadness that they would never hold a child of their own. Not only was it biologically impossible, the complications of their own positions meant that it could create quite a succession crisis for whichever poor bastard that was born to them. He knew that his existence alone in Cloud’s life meant that Cloud was robbed of the chance to marry a woman and sire a child of his own. And that was the same for Sephiroth.

But Sephiroth did not want children. The prospect of it appalled him dearly. He looked up at the man jiggling a baby in his arms, singing a sweet soft lullaby in that boyish voice of his. He was enough for Sephiroth. And he wished only for them to live together in peace after the tremulous beginning they had.

When they made their way to the reception hall, he tightened his grip on Cloud’s hand. ‘Are you happy?’

Cloud seemed startled by the question, then his face relaxed into an easy smile. ‘Why? Do I not seem happy to you?’

Sephiroth blinked. ‘No. But I wanted to check.’

‘I’m happy, my love,’ Cloud said, his voice low and sweet. ‘Come on, we have to face the masses now. Brace yourself.’

Sephiroth took a deep breath, and they walked into the hall, all the guests on their feet, clapping raucously at Genesis and Angeal’s entrance just before theirs. They were led to the grand table, and then a seemingly endless parade of food was served. Sephiroth ate mechanically, finishing whatever that was placed in front of him. The dancing began after Angeal and Genesis’s ridiculously dramatic number they called a first dance.

Then he was inundated by the endless line of people waiting to talk to him. Reeve Tuesti basically planted himself in front of Sephiroth, and discussed at least five different topics all revolving around the administration of Midgar City. Sephiroth didn’t blame him. He was away so often nowadays, Tuesti was barely able to cinch an appointment with him despite his position. Genesis and Angeal had been too busy to speak to him, but Sephiroth did not mind. There would be other occasions, he knew.

But the same could not be same for Kunsel, who pounced on him as soon as Tuesti was politely dispatched out of the way. He pulled out a harebrained scheme about a round-the-world tour, the same one he had been pitching for two months now. ‘Why,’ Sephiroth said curtly, then proceeded to tune out the rest of what Kunsel had to say about the rationale behind this specific royal tour.

Cloud danced the night away, with Aerith and then Zack, then the grooms. With Tuesti, with Kunsel, with his own secretary. At one point, Sephiroth saw him whirling Scarlett around the dance floor. He knew Cloud could hold his own, but kept half an eye on them anyway.

Thankfully, the night drew to an end. The festivities continued for a while, but it had been the agreement because of their unique positions, no one could really leave until they left first. So with that in mind, they said their final goodbyes to the newlyweds and their friends.

Cloud hummed softly in the car ride back to the Tower. He was in high spirits, Sephiroth could tell. He had loved it all.

‘What a fantastic night,’ Cloud said.

Sephiroth grunted.

‘Genesis was magnificent coming down the aisle, wasn’t he?’ Cloud said dreamily. ‘With his dramatic red coat and his gleaming hair that it looked like there was a halo behind him. And he caught the sunset perfectly too.’

They got back to their quiet apartment, and Sephiroth breathed in the smell of home. He followed Cloud to the balcony, where Cloud was still humming under his breath. Sephiroth did not dance, but he would always make an exception for his little cat.

He held out a hand, and Cloud took it.

They waltzed quietly to invisible music, pressed up against each other as the stars twinkled in the sky, and the night lights of Midgar lit up in a timeless, incandescent beauty. There was a breeze that ruffled through the cool night, and the weight and presence of his spouse was solid and real in his arms.

Cloud lifted his chin, and Sephiroth pressed a kiss on his lips.

They got changed for bed, with Cloud too tired to do more than shed his own clothes. He slipped underneath the blankets, skin bare and beautiful. Sephiroth followed after his own nightly ablutions, but by then Cloud had already drifted off to sleep.

He was curled up on his side, near the edge of the bed. Sephiroth flung an arm over him, gently dragged him backwards until they were locked together in a tight embrace. Cloud grunted softly, and mumbled his name.

Sephiroth pressed a kiss to his temple, and waited until Cloud subsided into sleep again. Then he willed his own muscles to relax.

He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply Cloud’s sweet, familiar scent. From his hair, and his skin. His presence, his very existence right here, right now.

All was well in their little world. Cloud was by his side.

So he slept. 

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I say this all the time, but this truly comes from my heart - Thank you for everything, you are the best readers ever. To the ones that lurk silently, to the ones that wait and read the newest chapter when it drops, and the ones that are hop on to your keyboards and let me know in incoherent words and complex dissertations what you thought. 
> 
> I for one feel extremely grateful that I could share this with you, and that you might have liked it, and especially if you have read this from start to finish. This story is 161k worth of words, and has its fair share of nonsense as well as brilliance. I hope that you were at least entertained by it, and that this has somehow accompanied you for a while. It kept me busy many a day and night - all during various modes of lockdown. 
> 
> I hope to see you again. I still have FFVII fics here and there scattered across the ether, and a few more in the works. If my writing and brand of unique BS floats your boat, then stay tuned. 
> 
> But for now, it is thank you, thank you, thank you, and goodbye, goodbye, goodbye!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know those pointless Netflix Christmas sequels full of saccharine happy ever after fluff that no one really asks for and no one really needs and everyone totally detests because it's a waste of time? Well, this is the fic version of it. 
> 
> Thank you to you for reading Amor Fati in its entirety across 2020. It's been a rough year for so many reasons, but one I'm still ultimately grateful for. And one of the reasons would be you, who've walked with me every step of the way. 
> 
> This is for you. Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year.

_Five years later_

Cloud looked down when he felt a hand curl around his forearm, gripping him hard. The hand was smooth as a baby’s bottom, and there was a chunky gold ring with a massive ruby around the ring finger of which its owner was immensely proud.

‘I need to speak with you,’ Genesis hissed in Cloud’s ear.

Cloud kept that smile on his face, turned his polite expression onto the hapless ambassador from Corel, who had been going on and on about Corellian wine that they were planning to export to Midgar in the coming year.

‘Please do excuse me. There’s a matter that I need to attend to rather urgently,’ Cloud said as smoothly as he could. He made sure to press a fresh champagne flute into the man’s hands before he allowed Genesis to yank him away to the private powder room in the back.

The phrase ‘powder room’ seemed to be an understatement. It was more like a suite than a washroom, with its separate areas of couches and a little kitchenette for the makings for coffee and tea. The room had been especially reserved for the top-tier VIPs for tonight, and was meant as an area of refuge to take a breather for when the night became too intense. There was a little fir tree in the corner of the room, all decked out with frosty blues and silver ornaments. It was very pretty in a cool, glacial way.

It was high stakes tonight at the Midgar Yule Ball, the annual event that was pretty much the highlight of the year. And with the special auction that was going on the side, the list of endless speeches they had the get through, the socializing and entertainment and whirlwind conversations with the grand and the genteel from all over the world.

Heck, he was surprised that Sephiroth wasn’t in the room already. He knew Sephiroth hated these things with a passion.

Genesis steered Cloud onto the plush leather couch. ‘What’s wrong?’ He could see Genesis’s overwrought, anxious expression on his face and knew that his friend was about to explode.

‘Angeal and I are adopting,’ Genesis burst out.

Cloud slouched back into the couch, pursed his lips. Waited for more. None came. ‘Right. Um. Congratulations?’

‘No, no, no!’ Genesis wailed dramatically.

Cloud sighed. ‘You made me leave my shrimp cocktail for this?’

Genesis stalked over to the exit, poked his head out to briefly speak to the guard that stood at the door. Then he slammed the door shut, stomped back to Cloud. ‘Did you hear me? I’m freaking out here!’

‘Yes, I heard you the first time,’ Cloud said. In fact, he had heard Genesis the rest of the ten thousand times he had talked about adopting. Angeal and Genesis had been mulling over adopting a child for over a year now, and it seemed like they had arrived at a decision. But clearly, not without immense angst, Cloud noted. ‘We’ve discussed this, Gen. You’ll be great parents, you know you will be.’

‘No, I won’t,’ Genesis wailed again, clutching his head. ‘Why did I think we could do this? We can’t! We can’t! How are we going to opt out now that we’ve been offered a child?’

Cloud’s interest was piqued. ‘You have?’ he said cheerfully. ‘That’s wonderful. Was it that kid you were talking about? That moody one?’

‘Yes, that one,’ Genesis groaned. ‘She’s dramatic and moody and temperamental. What the hell am I going to do with someone like that? I have no idea!’

‘You sure about that?’ Cloud asked, but the cheeky slight seemed to have escaped Genesis’s notice. There was a knock at the door, and Genesis went to answer it. He came back with an entire plate loaded with shrimp, and a tray of champagne flutes. He dumped Cloud’s champagne into his hand, the plate onto his lap, then another glass of water that he hurriedly poured and handed to Cloud’s free hand.

‘Now you have everything you need,’ Genesis said. ‘Eat your crap and listen to me.’

‘I am, I am,’ Cloud said patiently, then began tucking happily into the shrimp. He’d acquired a taste for seafood the same time they had acquired a third home at Junon Harbor. Before the abolition of the monarchy, Sephiroth had assigned himself to the military base in his new post as Special Advisor to the Generals. He still maintained his rank and influence, but for the most part his duties were now relegated to his three trusted men.

Sephiroth preferred it that way. Cloud did too, because it meant that they could now split their time more evenly between Midgar, Junon and Kalm. Nowadays they needed Cloud less and less ever since Tifa took up the reins of the regency and they worked together to share that role. But in this new world, royalty meant little.

And that was all right with Cloud. These days, their lives were a little quieter. A little calmer.

‘I don’t think we can do this,’ Genesis said. ‘Angeal might be cut out for parenting but I’m not! I would make a terrible parent!’

‘Why do you think that?’ Cloud asked.

‘Because … because … I’m selfish and I like to be spoiled!’

‘Mmm,’ Cloud said. ‘I’m sure you’ll learn to share your time and things with someone else. But this has been what you always wanted, Gen. You wanted children.’

‘No, Angeal wanted children!’ Genesis yelled.

The door opened again, and Cloud looked up. He could feel a smile appear easily on his own face, and he beamed at the man who walked into the powder room, made his way across with his long strides only to settle down next to Cloud.

He wore a suit of the deepest black, with silver tasseled epaulettes. There was a silk sash of dark blue to signify his status as the spouse of the Regent of Nibelheim, Midgar’s allied nation. In a show of solidarity, Cloud wore a sash of silver over his blue suit, pinned with the crest of the Nibel wolf.

‘What are you doing in here?’ Genesis hissed.

‘I was looking for my spouse,’ Cloud’s husband said. ‘Wondering if he needed rescuing from your predatory clutches.’

His husband curled his arm around Cloud’s waist, his gloved hand taking the champagne from Cloud’s hand and the water glass from its precarious position tucked between his lap and the arm of the couch. Cloud turned his head, accepted the affectionate nuzzle that Sephiroth pressed to his neck. He shivered a little at the nipping kiss that Sephiroth sneakily bestowed upon him.

‘Why the hell are you two being so lovey-dovey in front of me anyway?’ Genesis scowled irritably. ‘Wasn’t it just last week that that your possible divorce was splashed across the tabloids?’

‘It was?’ Sephiroth blinked.

‘Oh, that,’ Cloud said at the same time, then flushed.

‘Yes, that,’ Genesis said. ‘Something about trouble in paradise? You two were photographed coming out of that opening event like you were pissed off with each other. What was it again?’

‘The museum opening,’ Cloud said hurriedly.

‘Which one?’

‘The Midgar Museum of Natural History,’ Cloud said in a hushed whisper. ‘The one with the marble tiles in the bathroom.’

Sephiroth’s expression changed. ‘Right,’ he said shortly. ‘The museum.’

‘Yup,’ Cloud said.

Genesis looked between Cloud and Sephiroth. Then he visibly flinched. ‘If you tell me that you two were doing nasty things at the museum, I’m going to walk out and go jump off this building.’

Sephiroth didn’t even blink. ‘I went down on him in the bathroom.’

‘Sephiroth!’ Cloud gasped, kicking his husband in the shin.

‘Genesis said he was going to walk out,’ Sephiroth said, seemingly innocently.

‘The tabloids said you two had very strange body language and were refusing to touch each other,’ Genesis said consideringly, ignoring Sephiroth. ‘I guess that makes sense. You guys were doing the dirty. In public.’

Sephiroth stared at Genesis. ‘Hmmm.’

Cloud steadfastedly refused to look at Genesis in the eye. ‘Icy Shiva, you two are going to be the death of me. You know the tabloids, Gen. They like to make up things because we’re a boring couple. We literally do nothing.’

Sephiroth blinked once. ‘Except we did. Darling, did you forget that we put a vibrator up your tight little ass?’ 

Cloud swatted his husband, who never even flinched.

Genesis death-stared Cloud. ‘Give me two seconds to get that horrible mental image out of my mind.’

‘While you’re at it, please get me a plate of shrimp,’ Sephiroth said. ‘Then you can tell us all about your problems.’

‘How do you know I have problems?’

‘You always corner my spouse when you have problems,’ Sephiroth said.

Genesis turned on his heel, slammed the door.

‘I thought you hated shrimp,’ Cloud said.

Sephiroth turned to Cloud, caught his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. ‘I do. I needed Genesis to get out of our way. I’ve missed you, little cat.’

Cloud broke the kiss to laugh. ‘It’s only been a week!’

‘A week’s too long,’ Sephiroth said. This time Sephiroth had stayed at Junon, and Cloud at Kalm. They had met back up at the apartment only a couple of hours before the ball. There had just been enough time for a short rest, a shower and to change into their formal outfits for tonight’s ball.

But of course, when they were together, it never went that way. Their way happened to be Cloud dropping onto his knees, sucking Sephiroth off.

It wasn’t enough to satisfy Sephiroth, not even close, but it had to be when they had to get their asses to the ball. And at the ball, Sephiroth and Cloud had to stay away from each other lest they rip each other’s clothes off and do it right there and then on the dance floor.

Genesis walked back into the room, practically threw the plate of shrimp into Sephiroth’s lap. ‘My problem,’ he announced dramatically. ‘Is that you two don’t seem to care very much for my predicament.’

‘I don’t care at all,’ Sephiroth said, even as Cloud drowned it out with his enthusiastic declaration of, ‘Of course we care! Why would you even say that? I think it’s just nerves! You’ll be a great parent, I know you will! You’re so good with Zack’s kids. So why wouldn’t you be a good parent?’

Genesis’s face melted, and he walked up to Cloud, inserting himself between Sephiroth and Cloud so that they were forced to part in order to make space for Genesis to plop down between them. Sephiroth looked disgruntled, but Cloud was trying his best to keep it together and not burst out laughing. Between Sephiroth’s sexual frustration and Genesis parental angst it was hard not to feel amused at the whole thing.

Cloud caught Sephiroth’s eye, motioned at the tissue box on the counter. Sephiroth sighed palpably, but got up to pick it up anyway and hand it to Genesis, who sobbed noisily. ‘I can’t do this, I can’t even tell Angeal.’

‘Tell me what?’ Angeal asked, poking his head in through the open door.

Genesis froze. The only motion in the room seemed to be Cloud’s rhythmic patting motion on Genesis’s back.

‘Tell me what?’ Angeal said again, this time walking into the room and heading straight for his own spouse. Cloud and Sephiroth had to move farther away from each other.

‘Genesis has some …’ Cloud paused, as if searching for the nicest way to address Genesis’s anxieties.

‘Buyer’s remorse,’ Sephiroth said drily, and clearly ignored the startled pinch that Cloud gifted onto his outstretched hand.

Angeal instantly looked concerned. ‘About the adoption?’

Genesis dissolved into manly, dramatic tears. As Angeal enveloped his husband in his massive arms, Sephiroth took the opportunity to get up from the couch, gracefully but firmly yanking Cloud in his. ‘We’ll let you have a moment,’ he said, and they exited the powder room so quickly that Cloud could barely say, ‘Wait a minute’.

Back in the relative safety of the ballroom, Sephiroth and Cloud parted. They were well-used to never displaying physical affection in public. It was almost an unspoken rule between the both of them, and somehow made it easier to face a public who was always watching their every move. It might have been years since they made the front page news, but being careful had become second nature to them.

Zack found them, and he was in a panic. ‘Where were you guys?’ he hissed. ‘It’s almost time for Aerith’s big speech, and I couldn’t find any of you!’

‘Right,’ Cloud said, patted Zack on his muscular arm. ‘We’re here now. Angeal and Genesis are … indisposed at the moment in the powder room, but they can hear it just as well from there since there are speakers.’

Sephiroth sighed quietly. ‘Why are we friends with a group of overdramatic divas?’ Cloud shushed him. 

They listened to Aerith as she gave her speech as the current chairperson of this year’s Yule Ball. She spoke in gracious and warm tones about the spirit of Yule, and the generosity of the upper echelon of Midgar society. Cloud and Sephiroth clapped reservedly, but deep inside Cloud beamed with a pride that he couldn’t quite express.

And with that, the dancing began. Cloud watched as the chairperson and her husband took to the floor in an exuberant display. Cloud craned his neck, wondering who would be the first to approach him. He had gained some sort of weird notoriety among society as a great dancer to partner with. His invisible dance card was always full, and he’d have to promise people weeks in advance that he’d save a dance for them.

Then a hand at his wrist stopped him.

Cloud turned to look at his husband’s hand around his wrist. ‘May I?’ Sephiroth asked. 

Cloud’s smile was puzzled. ‘Yes, darling?’

‘Shall we dance?’

Cloud burst into a quiet laughter. ‘What did you say again? I must have misheard you.’ Sephiroth didn’t dance in public. Ever.

Sephiroth scowled at Cloud, so Cloud relented. He gently flipped his hand so he was holding Sephiroth instead, and pulled him onto the dance floor. Gracefully he whirled into his husband’s arms, and they settled into a soft sashaying to the music.

He waited until Sephiroth’s muscles relaxed under Cloud’s hands. ‘So what brought this on?’

Sephiroth shrugged. ‘Apparently the entire population of Midgar has been dancing with my husband.’

‘You’re the one who doesn’t like dancing,’ Cloud teased.

‘I don’t mind dancing,’ Sephiroth said.

‘Yeah right,’ Cloud said. ‘That’s not true at all.’

‘Well …’ Sephiroth lifted his chin and refused to meet Cloud’s eyes. ‘I don’t mind it. But only with you,’ he said quietly.

Cloud cast his gaze downwards, smiled to himself. It was just as well that they were lost in their own feelings of mild embarrassment at the uncharacteristic displays of public affection that it sunk in belatedly that the blinding flashes of a dozen camera bulbs were aimed their way.

So Cloud nestled in closer to his husband’s chest, partially hiding his face, knowing that despite the genuine warmth and affection they were feeling towards each other, this would go a long way to convincing the public that they were on the mend again after the supposed turmoil. Midgar society lived for gossip, after all, and there was nothing more titillating than a story of the consort who returned, and the emperor who gave up his kingdom for love.

The Yule Ball was considered a grand success. At the end of the night, they walked out to thunderous applause. Cloud was exhausted, but his smile was fixed on his face. He must have spoken to hundreds of people, clasped hundreds of hands, danced with dozens. His legs felt like rubber and his body like it had been put through three consecutive rounds of sparring with Sephiroth. He was well and truly ready for home.

Sephiroth and Cloud got into their own vehicle, led and escorted by a modest security convoy. It was still quite a novelty to drive to everywhere on their own, after so long of being chauffeured around. Sephiroth turned out to be quite a speed demon, and the convoys fought hard to keep up with him.

They arrived outside the farmhouse in Kalm in less than ninety minutes thanks to his husband’s lead foot, and from there, they were finally, finally left alone. They usually liked to wait until the security convoy cleared off so they could have their privacy.

Cloud stepped out with his boots into the fresh snow. He gasped quietly, knelt, then pulled off his gloves to graze his bare fingertips against the powder. Light and soft, he curled around a handful before making a fist. Perfect.

He got to his feet, turned to smile at Sephiroth.

It was a testament to how well he knew Cloud, because he was already there, his hand curled firmly around Cloud’s wrist, stopping him in mid-air before he could launch his first offensive.

Cloud laughed, but Sephiroth’s hand wasn’t budging. So Cloud brought up his other hand, only to have it swing backwards and pinned behind his back.

‘Darling,’ Sephiroth crooned softly. ‘Do you take me for a fool?’

‘Of course not,’ Cloud said innocently. Then he hooked his leg around Sephiroth’s calf, and shifted his weight forward. He tried to push his husband down, but it was unsuccessful. They merely hovered in the air, Sephiroth a stiff, resistant board who braced against their combined weight.

‘You need to work on your hand-to-hand combat,’ Sephiroth reminded him.

‘I know,’ Cloud said, then changed tactics instead. With his hands still pinned, he had no choice but to reach up on his tiptoes, pressed his lips against Sephiroth’s. It felt soft, and cold. Cloud’s warm tongue snaked into his mouth, sucked on his lower lip. Then he thrusted his hips against Sephiroth’s.

He groaned, and Cloud pressed his advantage. He shoved at Sephiroth, and they both tumbled into the snow.

Even Sephiroth had to chuckle at that.

‘I don’t need to work on anything,’ Cloud said arrogantly. He felt Sephiroth’s gloved hand creep under the nape of his neck, pushed them together for a much softer kiss. Devoid of all the tension and aggression that was omnipresent in their early relationship, what they had now was far more boring. Placid. Mellow. But lovelier. Gentler.

It made Cloud feel safer. More secure.

Cloud broke the kiss as he ran out of breath, and surfaced with a small laugh. ‘As much as I want to do this all night, I can’t. It’s so cold.’

‘I believe I’m the one whose back is in the snow,’ Sephiroth said wryly.

‘Well, whose fault is that then?’ Cloud retorted.

‘Yours,’ Sephiroth said, then managed to get an entire fistful of tightly packed powder right into Cloud’s face. He sputtered, swore, and flailed wildly when Sephiroth lifted him in his arms, carried him into the house.

Sephiroth took him up to their bedroom, flung him roughly on the bed. Before he could even protest, Sephiroth was already removing his own sash and suit. ‘Strip.’

Cloud watched him coyly. ‘Someone’s in an impatient mood tonight.’

‘Yes,’ Sephiroth said. With efficiency, he removed all his clothes before walking to the bedside table. He yanked it open, tossed the bottle of clear lube on the bed as well as a handful of condoms. Cloud stared down at it, his fingers frozen on the second button.

‘How many times are you planning to do it tonight?’ Cloud narrowed his eyes.

‘As many times as you will let me,’ Sephiroth said.

‘Once, darling,’ Cloud said.

‘We shall see,’ Sephiroth promised. But Cloud no longer had the energy to protest, because his husband was already on him, assisting him with the rest of his clothes. Soon they were both wearing only their skins, and Cloud could feel himself glowing from within at the thought of being in his husband’s arms again.

‘It’s been too long,’ Sephiroth whispered against the shell of his ear, and Cloud shivered. He climbed into Sephiroth’s lap, indulged in the lavish pleasure of Sephiroth bestowing light, flirty kisses on the curve of his shoulders.

For now he loved the feeling of their bare skins warming each other with the smell of applewood burning in the roaring fireplace, the entire room cast in an amber glow. But Cloud wanted more, he always did. He reached behind himself, and with fingers generously coated in sticky layers of lube, breached his own entrance. He hissed softly at the familiar yet strange stinging as his flesh parted under the insistent ministrations of impatient fingers. 

‘Let me,’ Sephiroth said, and he reached down. He slid a finger around the pucker of flesh, stroking it gently until it yielded under the pressure. His finger sank into Cloud, who moaned and dissolved into the touch. ‘Loosen up for me, darling.’

Cloud hooked his arms around Sephiroth’s neck and held on. He dug his knees into either side of the man’s thighs, arched his back so their chests were flush. That single finger was as patient as its owner; rhythmically and slowly easing in and out, stretching his muscles outward. Curling and twisting until it was able to reach deep inside of him, touch that little spot inside of him that sent shudders of pleasure rolling around in his system.

‘Ahhh,’ Cloud moaned, as Sephiroth retracted his finger briefly only to shove two inside of him. His insides felt like they were melting, and his own ass began to thrust into Sephiroth’s fingers, wantonly and lewdly.

Sephiroth withdrew his fingers again, and Cloud gasped at the emptiness inside of him. Then with a precise, sharp little slap aimed at his twitching ass, Sephiroth bit Cloud on his shoulder. Cloud turned to his husband with a furrowed brow.

Sephiroth smirked. ‘Patience, darling.’

‘Can’t,’ Cloud moaned, and Sephiroth reached inside of him again, this time pressing in with three fingers. Cloud managed to bite down on that yelp, suppressing the instinct to shake him off. But pain melted into a deep pleasure, and suddenly he was panting like a bitch in heat.

‘You’re so wet,’ Sephiroth whispered, and a full-body shudder shot through Cloud’s core.

There was something about Sephiroth, who could always send him to that terrible place of pleasure and oblivion, where logic and reason gladly fled his mind. He became a mindless animal, dead set on seeking only one thing. He wrenched himself out of Sephiroth’s arms, pushed him down to mount him.

He grabbed hold of Sephiroth’s cock, lined it up with his own ass. Without warning, Sephiroth grabbed Cloud’s hips and impaled him in one swift plunge, and Cloud’s scream died in his throat. ‘So full,’ he choked out. ‘I can feel you all the way inside of me.’

Sephiroth thrusted upwards, and Cloud jerked in his lap. ‘Move for me, little cat.’

Cloud canted his hips, rode his husband. The pace he set at first was gentle, almost leisurely. But their physical love was never languid for too long. Cloud planted his grip against the headboard, dug his knees firmly into the mattress, and fucked himself on Sephiroth’s cock.

He loved the way Sephiroth’s green eyes, which were cool and measured so often, glazing over into an unspeakable pleasure. Cloud loved the fact that he was the only one who could force the stoic, unsmiling General down to his knees with pleasure, surrendering to the inevitable power of loving someone so madly and insatiably.

Cloud was so focused on looking into Sephiroth’s eyes he had neglected to notice the deep pleasure building up inside of himself. Sephiroth’s large hand with those clever fingers wrapped around Cloud’s cock, stroked it competently and firmly. His core fired with warmth, and all he felt was this niggling sensation that suddenly transformed into a beast raging within himself. Suddenly he was utterly lost in his own pleasure, and the climax took him by surprise.

‘I’m—’ Cloud managed to declare before erupting over himself and Sephiroth, splattering their chests full of warm and salty come. That orgasm had been wrenched out of him with an impossible gasp, and his entire body was wracked in a wild spasm. His rhythm faltered, his canting slacked.

But it was nowhere near enough for Sephiroth. He gripped Cloud’s hips in a punishing fashion, reared up so powerfully that he displaced Cloud onto his knees. Sephiroth jolted him forward onto his forearms, and fucked into his warmth.

Cloud tipped forward, unbalanced. Unable to brace himself against the vigorous assault, he shouted his pleasure and plea for Sephiroth to slow down. ‘I can’t …’ he cried. ‘Can’t.’

‘You can, and you will,’ Sephiroth said firmly, and again Cloud caught a glimpse of that savage little sadist that his husband hid so well in polite company.

Cloud swallowed his sobs and focused on not collapsing on his face. As usual, Sephiroth was his demanding self and it was all he could do to keep up. Sephiroth fucked him with a punishing passion that made him feel like he was the most beloved creature in the world.

Sephiroth only released him when Cloud had been rolled onto his back, one ankle hoisted into the air, and his insides felt like pounded putty. His fingers felt like claws having dug them into the sheets, and his body was matted with a sheen of sweat. He’d come multiple times over himself, feeling so filled, but so filthy at the same time.

He stretched out his arms and trapped Sephiroth between them, feeling the man pump into him, before faltering and collapsing onto Cloud. Cloud caressed Sephiroth’s silver strands with his fingers, loving the texture and the feeling under his touch.

They belonged to each other. He was thankful for the fact that they could both exist right here, right now. To live, to love. How was it possible that not very long ago that they had let this opportunity slip between their fingers?

Cloud drifted in and out through the haze of drowsiness, only awakening when he felt Sephiroth shift inside of him. ‘Don’t fall asleep on me, little cat,’ Sephiroth said. ‘We’ve got to get you cleaned up.’

‘No,’ Cloud mumbled sleepily. ‘Rather sleep in my own filth.’

He felt rather than heard Sephiroth’s chuckle. ‘Then you wouldn’t mind if I did this.’

Cloud opened one eye only to see Sephiroth rear up like a savage beast. 

‘No,’ Cloud managed to eke out before Sephiroth hardened inside of him. Suddenly Cloud’s legs were up over his head, and he was nearly bent in two. This time Sephiroth pounded him like he was nothing but a gaping hole, like he was a thing to be used. Cloud loved every bit of it. He loved how he could be a source of pleasure for Sephiroth as he was to him.

And right now he was like a limpet, a receptacle that Sephiroth forced pleasure into, again and again until they were both finally spent.

‘No more,’ Cloud croaked.

In response, Sephiroth yanked Cloud into his embrace, pressed dry lips against his wet temple.

Cloud closed his eyes, tightened his grip around Sephiroth’s forearms. ‘I love you.’

‘You have my heart. Always,’ Sephiroth whispered against his skin. ‘Always.’

And lying in their own filth, the physical evidence of their love, Cloud and Sephiroth both drifted away in the warmth of the firelight, safe in each other’s arms, barely registering the musical ringing of the Yule Bells as they rang through the town to mark the coming of a new day.


End file.
